One of the things I like best about being sick is getting well. After you have suffered through a night or two of coughing your guts out and you finally get some relief permitting you to feel human again, the world seems really cool and you feel this urge to get up and do. I have just had such a session and am feeling much better.
I remember when my children were small and sick and you were sick right along with them. You just stayed up, held their heads and put cold cloths on their foreheads. You never got to lie down and any breaks you took were to do your own barfing.
I am thinking of one such night when my husband, Bill, came home from work and pronounced himself sick and went immediately to bed. Now all of you know how men are when they get sick. Get me this and get me that and moan and groan. I helped him the best I could and put all the kids to bed. Three of them. Tonight I had four-- Let’s not forget hubby!!!
I finally got the dishes done and went to bed myself. As I lay back luxuriating in how good it felt, I heard my son, Jonathan, hit the floor above and the usual sound of Harrumph. As I ran up the stairs, there he was sliding across the floor in his own fluids trying to get to the stairs. Cleaned up him, the floor, the sheets, and the blankets. He kept it up for about 2 hours and then I went back to bed. Then my daughter, Julie, started in. Just the sheets and the blanket for her. Why is it they can never get to the toilet on time? Then the baby started. This went on all night with Bill snoring in bed.
In the morning, after feeding the baby who had recovered quite well, I spent the day lying on the couch with him in the playpen next to me. That is, when I wasn’t bringing hot tea and Seven-Up to my husband and the other two.
At five o’clock my husband came out of our bedroom, waving a cigar like Groucho Marx, declaring that he was now feeling very well. I looked at him and if looks could kill he would have fallen right there. I have always said if I had had a gun, I would have shot him .
It is then I vowed if I ever came back to this world again, I would come back as a man.
9 comments:
"Some things never change." Mothers will always drag themselves out of their sick bed to take care of everyone else. I guess we were created more tough than we look. :)
There is no doubt that women are the Strongest of the gender's. A real man will agree.
Amen to having the time with my small children again and AMEN to guns in the hands of the wife. The other day I was putting on my make up for work and the HOTFLASH got me sweating so that i was running my makeup before I had it on good. In frustration I growled and walked out of the room to find a cool spot. A couple of minutes later apologized to my husband for growling but it wasn't him it was the hot flash, he stood their nicely dressed for work pouring a cup of coffee and replied, "I have bad hot flashes too"....I had to leave the room
My husband has this thing where if I don't listen to his latest tale of woe (back hurts, knee hurts, head hurts), he will sigh deeply everytime he walks by me. I offer my sympathy the first time or two, but start rolling my eyes after that.
As a mother I so remember those long nights, early mornings and never ending days...women always seem to take the responsability to make everyone feel better, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger eh!......:-) Hugs
Isn't this the truth, though? Thanks for the Saturday laugh. Glad to hear you're feeling better.
Isn't this the story where he also announced he was going to work the next day? Oh, how I know that mothers can never get sick, even if they are. Enjoyed it.
I'm sorry to hear you have been sick Bernie...It was that way at my house too...I was a stay at home mom responsible for throw up clean up!
Oh, this is so great in its truth!
For my mother, it went on past my childhood. I was 40-something, in bed the day after breaking my ankle. Took a pain med and it turned my stomach. Husband brought a bucket, but could not deal with it from there. He left it for my mother to empty when she came to visit.
Poor Mom.
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