There were puffs of white everywhere. On the table. Under the couch. In the couch cushions. In my sleeves. Lining the bed. We tried to clean them up but they were like Tribbles and reproduced at a rate we could not keep up with. So we gave in and let the white puffs rule our home. And even though they were covered in pestilence, they were soft and cute so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.
That is all I remember about last week. Well that and feeling generally craptastic. There were just so many tissues. I could not make the trek to the garbage can. And even when I tried to get to the garbage I lacked the hand strength to actually hold on to the Kleenexi, so I’d end up at the trash can empty handed with a trail of tissues behind me. I was delirious though, so I was pleased to have the tissue trail to follow back to the couch. I was the Kleenex Hansel and Gretel, but despite what my nephew will tell you boogers aren’t as tasty as bread so less having to worry about birds eating my path back. Score.
I am not really the big outdoorsy type. I am not what you would call “social.” I think my house is the happeningest joint in town. I am an inside girl so I don’t get exposed to many of the diseases that go around. And believe it or not this was the first time I was really really sick in the 2 ½ years I have been a Mommy. And it’s not like I was really really really sick. I just had a lesser version of the Bubonic Plague. But if I was too sick to throw away booger coated pestilence puffs, how the heck was I supposed to be a mother?
Simply answered, I wasn’t. Well maybe I was, but I couldn’t. I was more of an underpaid, overqualified lump last week. I think the tivo did a better job entertaining the Light of My Life than I did. The cat certainly gave her more love and affection. And my wonderful dog who is all heart and no brains, who gets confused by her own reflection, who consistently runs into our screen door because she forgets it’s there- had to tell me when The Queen Bee woke up from naps or had a dirty diaper as I lost both my ability to hear and smell.
It was a long long week. But here is the scary part. I kind of liked it. Not the fever, or the chills, or the cough that actually knocked things off my mantle. Or the fact that my nose is still so red that Santa just called and asked if I could guide his sleigh tonight (he likes to do a practice run in February). But the part where I needed to get taken care of. And I know it sounds horrible and wrong, but it felt good to just lay there and let my husband do dinners and baths and diapers.
It felt good for me to be the one whining. And for me to be the one who had her keppy kissed. It’s not like I wanted to be sick forever- because man, I missed breathing. But that whole just lay there and let the world go by feeling hasn’t happened in a couple years now. It’s nice to not always worry if I’m entertaining enough, or educating enough, or feeding enough, or if I put enough cream on that rash to make it go away enough. I’m always on and it wears me out, but I guess I don’t need a fever to take a minute for myself. It’s hard now that the sense of hearing has returned and I can hear Lady calling for me. But luckily I have a few extra Kleenex around that I can stick in my ears to block the sound out.