You know those days when everything comes together perfectly?
Days when you wake up, the sun is shining, birds are singing,
you’ve slept the entire night and are perfectly refreshed?
You know those days when everything comes together perfectly? Days when you wake up, the sun is shining, birds are singing, you’ve slept the entire night and are perfectly refreshed?
Lucky you. I haven’t seen a day like that in, oh, four days or so. This is because both Junior and Harry are sick. Yes, I’m whining. But you would whine too if you were living in my house and you were the only fully functioning person around.
First of all, any time either of them gets a tickle in their throats, they are dying. And then the tickle morphs into a full-fledged disease – oh please. According to them nobody – and by nobody, I mean me – has ever felt as awful as they do. So you can imagine how horrifying it was to have them both sick at exactly the same time.
Let’s be honest. Even in the best times I’m not a good nurse. I’m not one of those moms who run around with a thermometer in one hand and an anti-bacterial wipe in the other. I’m not good with sick people. Or injured people. Let’s just say that Junior learned from an early age that if he was going to barf at 2 a.m., it was best to wake up Dad. And if he had an injury, well, he knew where the Band-Aids were kept. And how to dial 911 if he was missing a limb or bleeding from the ears.
The truth is, though, I did sign up for this mom gig, not to mention the whole “in sickness and in health” thing. So I’m stuck being the nurse, whether I like it or not. And I don’t like it. Not one little bit.
Look, neither of them sleeps at night when they are sick. What the heck is that all about? When I’m sick, I sleep. I sleep all night and usually all day. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m the most considerate sick person on the planet. Junior and Harry? Not so much. They toss. They turn. They need water. They need their Vick’s vapor stuff. They need antihistamine. They need tissues. They need juice. They need cough drops. I’m telling you, it does not end. At 3 a.m., they still need something, while the only thing I need is sleep.
And in the morning they finally do sleep. I don’t know why. All I know is that after a long night of babysitting two sick guys, they are upstairs sleeping while I am downstairs trying desperately to get enough coffee in me to function. And let me just say here and now, there is not enough espresso on the planet to do that.
But I have to stay awake because I have to go out for supplies. After all, during the night we’ve run out of tissues, Vick’s, antihistamine, juice and cough drops. Not to mention that the two of them will need a good dose of chicken soup. And we are all out of chicken soup.
So I go to the store, where my brain mutters the same things over and over, “need tissues, Vick’s, antihistamine, juice, cough drops and chicken soup.” And somehow I get through the store, and get home, only to find that I don’t have soup. Or tissues. Or Vick’s. In fact, all I have is a pound of deli roast beef, a frozen package of green beans and about 40 pounds of coffee labeled “strong brew.”
Obviously, my brain had me purchase the essentials to keep me alive.
So I run back to the store, because even I don’t know why I bought a frozen package of green beans. And when I come back, the walking dead are awake. In fact, they are in my kitchen. And the first words from the sick and diseased aren’t anything like, “Thanks for taking care of us last night” or even “Did you get chicken soup?” No, instead I’m greeted with Junior saying, “The dog barfed all over my bed.”
Wow. What luck. I mean, there I was, just taking care of two guys with colds and now I get to clean up dog throw-up. Could it get any better than that? I mean I wouldn’t feel like a real mom unless the sickness running through my house didn’t include a good, old-fashioned barfing.
On the other hand, I’m starting to feel a little tickle in my throat. And is that a sneeze? Pass the tissues, will you?
