I am the biggest jerkwad when The Workaholic is sick. He moans and groans like a cheap porn movie when he’s sick, and I just walk out of the room and let him fend for himself. I literally send The Muffin up with water on occasion. I have no sympathy because EVERY time he gets sick, he’s dying sick. He’s either well, or dying from Bubonic Plague. There’s no in-between.
Just call it right now. Just tell me what I am. Say it. It won’t offend me.
When I get sick, I still have to drag my big ole’ butt out of bed and take care of the minions, clean the house, and pretty much ignore the fact that I’m sick.
Case in point: In November, The Muffin got the stomach flu. About 24 hours later, The Workaholic got it. 8 hours later, The Stinky and I got it and literally started puking within minutes of one another. A few hours later, The Nerd got it. It only lasted about 12 furious and painful hours, but guess who was taking care of everyone between trips to the toilet?
The Workaholic eventually let me rest, but it was after some serious crying about how sick I was, as though he didn’t know.
Ladies, I know you’re all laughing, because your husbands are likely all the same.
That’s why they call it the Man Flu.
The Nerd is becoming the same. It’s Cray-Cray.
So when I started feeling sick yesterday, I couldn’t believe that I had to wait to get sick until The Workaholic went back to work after a glorious 3 days off.
I woke up this morning and couldn’t get out of bed. I had a thick mess of nastiness coating my mouth and throat, but someone had to get up with the babies. The Workaholic didn’t get home until 2am, so it had to be me. I fed them then fell asleep on the sofa, and woke up to literally every, single book off of my bookcase, and The Stinky wielding a jumbo Sharpie.
I lay shivering on the sofa with a pounding headache and contemplated letting him use the Sharpie however he wanted to – Even to draw large penises on my flushed cheek.
Luckily, they went upstairs and terrorized The Workaholic while I shivered away on the sofa.
I eventually got up and took a shower which made me feel quite a bit better and I kinda got to thinkin’: What if I have the Man Flu?
I mean, the shower made me feel better. We went to look at a house, and I felt OK. But as soon as we stepped foot back into the house and I fed the minions lunch. I felt like I was going to die again.
So I put them down for nap and took myself to my bed to take a relaxing snooze.
When I woke up, I was laying in an enormous puddle of my own saliva & snot and was shivering so hard that I could hardly move. My feather blanket was no match for these shivers. I took my temperature.
I want to preface this with the fact that my normal temperature is ALWAYS 97.2. ALWAYS. This means that a 98.6 degree temperature is a FEVER for me. My temp was 101.4.
Dinner is served at 6.
I am NOT cooking.
What. The. EFF. Do. I. DO?
I take my kids to Walmart, buy them cheap, frozen Chinese food, take it home, microwave the crap out of it, feed them, and write this post to let you all know that while my children are eating JUNK, I am NOT putting a meal planning post up until tomorrow because I’m about to go crawl in between my sheets and go the freak to sleep.
After I bathe them, of course.
SO good night, good and faithful readers.
I love you and I shall return tomorrow with hopefully a touch less of the Man Flu. Because I still can’t figure out if I really feel as badly as I think I do, or if I’m actually legitimately ill.