Sick Daddy Walking.Really does that even exist? Seriously, when I get sick the world keeps on moving on.Asses need wiped, BooBoos kissed, Dinner made. Lunches packed, Laundry folded.Children chauffeured, dressed, bathed, coddled and loved. The show must go on.(PERIOD)
But when the Big Guy, or any man for that matter, is sick,the world comes to a screeching halt.Full on, falls to the ground, assumes the fetal position and can NOT move.Sniffles are sure to be whooping cough. Diarrhea must be cholera or dysentery. A fever, oh shit,he's pretty sure its the bubonic plague.Vomiting must be fatal food poisoning.No matter the ailment,the end result is the same. They are dying and you must sit by their bedside and nurse their body while stroking their, (ehem) ego!
My husband and I have had the exact same virus, simultaneously and I had to get up and take care of the kids as he whimpered from the other bedroom ( because apparently when he's sick he needs to be alone in another room to get his rest...really,novel idea. Can I borrow it sometime?I need some sleep too!)"What do you want me to do ( cough ,cough)?You shouldn't have to do it all by yourself,( cough, sneeze, sniffle..repeat)but if you're getting up,I think Gabs needs to be wiped!" Commence eye rolling on my part.
Have I told you about the time I had the stomach flu so badly that I vomited for 9 hours straight,every half hour on the half hour? Well, I did and guess what happened on the 9th hour?I finally felt well enough to walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water for my dehydrated self ( it was about midnight)when my then 4 year old walks out of her bedroom, we meet in the hallway, and she proceeds to say "Mommy, I don't feel so...BLEH>>>>" all over my feet.As I was cleaning her up and trying to clean up the hallway and ...my feet, the Big Guy walks out, only to say, "You Ok?" I say yes (yes, in the vomit was not acid like and had not burned off any of my skin or limbs. But not yes as in, I'm OK, life is dandy with vomit on my toes)and try to explain what had happened...to his back as he was headed back to bed.Guess what I got to do that night, after a long day of puking? You guessed it, I got to stay up all night with a sick daughter who kept puking.What did the Big Guy get to do? SLEEP!But if the tables had been flipped, you can bet your ass that I would have had to stay up and hold the barf bucket, wipe vomit off of faces, and soothe all general ill physical pains and emotions.
Just wondering if this happens at your house too? I love my Big Guy but there is something about a man sized baby that makes me want to gouge his eyes out.I just don't understand why they get to be all baby like and get pampered and stroked and we have to soldier on. I'm not a soldier, nor have I ever been, and I don't want to soldier on.When I'm sick, I want to receive the same care and attention the Big Guy and the kids expect from me.I want to be allowed the simple luxury of lying around in my jammies, sipping hot tea, while the world soldier's on without me. For now,( cough, cough, sniff, sniff, and a trifecta of sneezes)I will soldier on!