I’m sick. Again. For the second time this month.
It’s not my fault. It’s a man’s fault. Actually a man and a boy’s fault, specifically my husband and son, who decided to share their viral infections and pink-eye with me. The two of them love me so much they decided to share their germs in such a way I got sick first after hubby was sick, and then a second time after my son was sick. Which has meant that for the past four weekends I’ve either been tending to the sick, or being sick myself.
I’m still not better. Today I still have two bright red eyes, nasal congestion and have completely lost my voice. Not to mention that being ill, combined with the weather, has triggered a fibromyalgia attack that has me foggy, stiff and in severe pain that leads to my knees randomly giving out.
That does not mean though I’ve spent the time I’ve been ill just lying around convalescing, letting my boys tend to my every need. I mean that would be nice, but let’s be real…these are my men after all, and they are use to me caring for them…not the other way around.
They both have tried to take care of me. My hubby diligently made me cup after cup of tea and brought me multiple blankets when chills set it. My son snuggled up to me and helpfully kept me apprised at how my face looked (“You’re eyes are super red today Mommy!”). And they both showered me with love.
They also made me plenty of messes to clean up. So several times this weekend I gathered my energy to clean my kitchen, and fold laundry. I picked up toys and made sure that they knew what food was available to eat. And today I’m washing every blanket, towel and sheet we’ve come in contact within the last week as part of an effort to sanitize my entire house. (I’ve also used Lysol and Febreze liberally to the point the air smells like them). It’s like the old saying goes: Moms don’t get sick days.
Of course, I’m not complaining about this. In truth me lying around all day with nothing to do is a bad thing. I hate to be bored so I’d probably be an even more miserable b****. I’m also a tad anal-retentive about how things are cleaned, so it’s better for my sanity and my husband’s patience that I just do it myself, rather than nitpick over how he does it. He does a decent job, it’s just I’m a very OCD person. So I’d much rather be cleaning and folding laundry than sitting around sniffling and stressing over dishes not being rinsed before loaded in the dishwasher or shirts not buttoned properly when hung up (hint hint HUBBY!).
I am also trying to relax my clean-freak status by forcing others to do for themselves. The Maestro is still at the age where cleaning is an adventure, so he loves to help me pick up the house and dust. Recently we’ve started on him putting his laundry away and learning to make his bed. And hubby recently took over his own laundry, though I’ve told him I made a bet with myself on how long it will last before I take it back over again (I already stayed up late last night and folded his two loads he had done yesterday).
I also believe that while rest is essential to healing, so is staying in your routine so you don’t get lazy. I’m not cooking my usual meals and I’ve been to the gym maybe four times this entire month so far, but other than that I’m determined to keep going and not fall into the trap of self-pity and refusal to get out of bed. In that way, I’m glad moms don’t get sick days. It keeps me from slipping into laziness and depression.
Besides, I won’t be sick forever. I’m already doing better today than I was yesterday, and so I have hopes the end is in sight. Soon I will be back to normal and these past days where I’m only doing light cooking and basic cleaning will seem like a vacation! That’s one way to look at it right? These aren’t sick days…they are a vacation!
Which only tells me I need a real vacation…and STAT. 😉