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Saturday, January 14, 2012

Sick

So poor Alexis has some kind of stomach bug.  And of course, now that I have spent the better part of the day cleaning up puke, the smell is permanently burned into my nostrils and I smell it everywhere.  At one point she cuddled up to me while I was messing around on Facebook  (don't judge me; she was lying on the couch and Charlie was sleeping.  It's not like I was ignoring the kids to play on the computer...) and right after she did, she spewed all over me, her, the couch, and on my laptop.  You know you are a parent when you  have ever had to wonder if vomit will ruin your laptop.  Or a college student, but really if you are drinking and going on the computer you will real quick learn the disastrous results.  Today's version of drunk dialing, I suppose, but with a potentially unlimited audience.

Anyways, now I feel all vomit-y myself.  What is it about cleaning up puke that makes you want to puke, too?  Between that and the raging cold Charlie has going on, my children's germs are sure to attack my immune system from all sides in the hopes that someone, anyone, will be victorious.  I know from past experience that when I get sick it is usually not fun.  Of course, I don't have the luxuries that other members of my family have when they are sick.  I am still expected to cook and clean and remember things.  Today, for instance, Alexis's illness made her completely stumped by the complexities that are involved with buttoning her shirt.  My husband will frequently forget how to get up with the children when he is sick.  Elizabeth will take cold meds that knock her out and sleep for hours.  Charlie can emit a whine that really should be studied as a torture method.

Yet I fought off post-partum depression; I deal daily with the sometimes debilitating fatigue and pain from a chronic condition; I have had sinus infections and bronchitis too many times to count over the past year...and I never take a day off.  I am the one getting up with the kids; I do the cleaning and the running and still work 40+ hours.  Is it any wonder that my children tend to be perfectionistic and anxiety-ridden?  Their mother is the freaking queen of it!  I need to start reading my own words, looking at old posts, and make some changes in my life before my children end up in the same boat I am.

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