Monday, March 13, 2006

Mother's Rant

My husband told me I needed to rant about this and send it to Everyday Hogwash. The problem is, I don't think they like these kinds of rants. There are no customer service people involved, no crummy products, just life in all its un-justness--at least from where I sit.

So, my mother warned me, I'm sure. I don't remember, I was probably too busy barfing on her toes to listen. A mother doesn't ever get to be sick alone.

I was tired, but functional four days after the puking in church episode. Number three still had a leaky behind and it was getting exponentially worse, but I was getting by. Yes, I called my husband hysterical a time or two. I was wading in it after all. But I was getting by. But Thursday morning I woke up with a very full day planned and I couldn't shake the early morning chills. It got so bad I went to huddle under the covers with the electric blanket on. I still couldn't shake them. Eventually I took my temperature (yes, with no symptoms but the chills). You guessed it. Sick.

That, in and of itself, was bearable. Mostly the kids played in my room while I shivered. My daughter made me get well cards and my sons brought pillows and stacked them on me. But then number three had an "episode" that I had to clean up. By now my head was pounding. And then another episode.

About this time I remembered that I was supposed to be at a friends house, complete with her dinner. I made a few calls, drug myself out of bed and got the food packaged and to the door for its pick-up. Squirto starts complaining of a "tummy hurts." I haul myself up the stairs to brush my teeth and I hear him screech. Dash, slowly back down stairs and find him in a pool of puke. Mind you, I'm burning at 101.5, not deadly, but certainly uncomfortable, and my stomach is now, um, not liking the sight and smell of all that this entails.

I threw a towel on the puddle, picked up the kid, plunked him in the bath, scooped the whole mess up together with the messy clothes from before, tossed them in the laundry, lysoled the whole area, washed my hands and heard the door open to reveal my knight in shining armor. I mumbled a few directions, turned a 180 and crawled straight in bed.

I miss the good ole days when I got a fever and my mom put me to bed and made me stay there. But no, I wanted to get up and watch The Price is Right. What an idiot.

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