Tuesday, October 2, 2012


It never fails. Your little person starts sniffling and coughing and you can FEEL yourself getting sick. Before my son was born, I distinctly remember thinking being sick was a drag. It wasn't.

At worst, you hobble through your day hopped up on medication, surfing the Internet at work, and then go to bed at eight, like a geriatric patient.

 Now when I get sick I almost always have a sick mini- me sharing my box of Kleenex. During my sinus clearing steam shower, I get to play peek-a-boo.  While lying on the sofa, I get to have hot wheels driven on my face.  In between dry heaves, I get to change the worlds dirtiest diaper.

 When I've finally retired and am properly high on NyQuil, I get the privilege of dragging my pitiful ass out of bed every hour to administer hugs, nose wipes, and cough syrups.

 I never had to share my sick days before, but I also never had an adorably pajama- clad little man to cuddle under the quilt. I never heard a sweet little voice ask "You otay momma?", and I didn't get to put a precious person's needs ahead of my own.

Fair trade?  I think so.

What's your best (or worst) shared sickness story?  For example, Harrison and I shared a stomach flu when he was about nine months old that nearly broke me.  At one point I just stripped us both naked and laid down in the empty bathtub so that we could take turns simultaneously vomit-pooing ourselves in a contained manner.  Fun times were had by all.

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