I would love to sit here and tantalize your eyes with hilarious tales of parenting, messy concoctions, funny diatribes by my children, days filled with laughter and hilarity, but I can’t.
I feel about as useful as a poopie-flavored lollipop.
Being sick just ain’t fun. There’s too much to do and not enough of me to do it in.
Mom’s can’t afford to be sick, you know? We’re too busy butt-wipin’, diaper-wranglin’, laundry-doin’, vacuum-runnin’, boob-feedin’, dish-haulin’, scrubbin’ and baby-keepin’ to be knocked down with something silly like a persistent cough or runny nose. The dishes don’t do themselves. The poop doesn’t magically disappear with the wave of a wand, or sprinkle of pixie dust (oh, how I wish it would), and the floor doesn’t magically clean itself (unless, you are the lucky owner of a Roomba, that is. Or it’s something wickedly tasty according to your infant, who loves finding things to eat off your floor).
The strange thing about this whole thing is, I’m not normally a sick person. We eat pretty healthy, I work out, take vitamins, etc. However, something is definitely not right when I can’t shake this off despite my magic, cold-fighting arsenal. (Could I seriously be allergic to this military post, or something?) No matter, though, because the show must go on. And by “the show” I mean, life as a mom to six children, in a cramped, military house with chores to do and not enough time in the day to do it all in.
I’m doing what I could to maintain sanity (or some semblance of it), acting as the rubber wall in a pin-ball machine, pinging kids off me and back into play in between fights, and all while doing my best to get things done and stay in the upright position. Definitely attempting my best, however, I’m not sure my sickly best is good enough.
Despite my inability to dispose of this awful cough, my not-so-miserably-coughing smile shone through at many times. Many hugs were issued, along with copious I love you‘s and kisses a-plenty (on the cheek, of course, so no one else gets my plague). Many more so when the discovery of fresh, homemade Banana muffins were discovered by my kidlets (yes, I know I’m strange, I bake when I’m sick).
It was a not-so-very good, but not-too-awful day. I am alive, cough and all. For how much longer, who knows.
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