Call it what you want: the crud, the yuck, a jumpy tummy, a pounding headache.
Whatever I had last week has found me again and I spent most of the day with an ice bag on my temple, praying the boys wouldn’t destroy the house worse than it already was while I waited for whatever it is that continues to wreak a small amount of havoc in my well-laid plans for each day to finally LEAVE ME ALONE!
4:45pm rolled around and I had to call Hubs and tell him that, yes, I did recently shove the fridge full of wonderfully healthy and delicious food but that can he please pick up a few corndogs for the boys and whatever he’d like for himself because, once again, the chicken did not get cooked earlier that day that was intended for the chicken pot pie on tonight’s pre-planned menu.
And once again, I was thankful not just that I was married, but that my partner in life is “all in”, all the time, even when he is slammed at work, even though we were both up with a child at 3:30 this morning, even though he rolled out of bed at 5am because he knew he wasn’t going back to sleep, even though he’s had to care for the boys in the evening several nights in a row now for various reasons.
Not a hint of selfishness in his voice as I told him of my predicament. Once he was home, with corndogs in tow, I was relieved of my “motherly” duties that I could barely hold together and headed straight for a long, hot shower to soothe my jumpy tummy and achy head.
I do plan to get well. I do plan to carry on.
And I do it all the more because I have a small gaggle of people who depend on me, who need me, who love me at my worst times and who love to give hugs and kisses when it’s my sick time.
Image via Isabella & Max rooms