I've been sucking zinc lozenges, which usually keep my from getting full blown bleah's, but bleah bleah bleah.
My preschooler has been bringing me tissues and looking at me funny when I stick them up my nose (there's a nice mental picture...maybe I needed some tissues at that dance last weekend...).
Have I mentioned that I'm a little bit of a hypochondriac (okay not "actually" but whatever...)? I like to say that it's my dad's fault (don't remind me of my views on personal responsibility). When my siblings and I were smaller, he used to buy us toys when we were sick. I specifically remember getting a my little pony toy where the ponies could shower with real water under a cloud. It was great. I always felt better sooner, I think. I like attention when I don't feel well. I'm not completely sure that the Mr. has figured that out yet, since if I complain about not feeling well, he in his desire to be helpful asks if I've "taken anything yet".
I kind of miss having someone take care of me when I'm not feeling well. I also kind of miss the days when I could stay in bed and watch the Andy Griffith show all day long. There's no such thing as staying in bed all day when you have kids to take care of. They don't understand "I'm sick, leave me alone" when they are suffering greatly with a partially empty stomach. The bright side, is that when I'm old and they are grown up, they can take care of me. It's a nice idea, but not as nice as staying in bed and playing with new toys...
Those were the days. At least I don't have to go get my own tissues...
4 comments:
You poor thing. No wonder I saw someone eating cup of noodles for lunch at work today. Can I bring lunch in for you tomorrow and play with the boys awhile?
I have to say, that after the Mr. got home from work yesterday he took really good care of me.
He put both the kids to bed while I sat doing nothing. Then he made me tea and brought me medicine.
Then, in the middle of the night, when the 2-year-old threw up (3 times) he took care of it.
And he let me sleep in and got the kids ready and drove the carpool to preschool.
I don't know what I was thinking when I said he hadn't figured out that I like being taken care of. I was obviously mistaken.
My throat feels a little better this morning, and I can sort of breath through my nose. Now I just ache everywhere. I think I'm getting better though.
I don't know if this really happened or not, but I have a memory of dropping some cottage cheese into the toilet and telling mom and dad that I had barfed and would need to stay home from school and be taken care of.
My mister does the same thing:
Me: (in a pitiful voice) I have a headache. I don't feel good.
Mister: (barely looking up from Techbargains.net) Have you taken anything yet?
Of course, mentioning this alone would be thoroughly unfair of me, as there have been countless instances of nurturing and tea bringing and head rubbing over our nearly seven years together.
M.A. Now that, in spite of age and failing memory I would remember. I have vivid memories of the times I was privileged to clean up after a sick child, and I would never have been fooled by cottage cheese. But I have my own great memories of dreaming of ways to fool my parents, so you must have inherited the tendency.
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