Today, I want to take some medicine that will cure my foggy head/so stuffy I can’t taste anything/runny nose and curl up in bed with a book to rest. But my reality is getting up at 6:30am with both girls, letting Lily watch way too many hours of movies and trying to keep Vivienne vaguely entertained with random toys while I plop my whiny self down on the couch.
I think we’ve been sick at least once a month in the last year. I blame this entirely on our four year old. Between preschool and summer camps and play-dates, it is pretty much a guarantee she’ll catch every bug going around. Which, of course, means that Vivienne and I also catch it. Sick days at work don’t even begin to cover my own illnesses, let alone all the days I have to take off due to my sick kids.
The notion of “taking care of yourself first” is nice in theory. Before you have kids, piece of cake. After you have kids, not so much. And when you have sick kids and are sick yourself, impossible. Bring on the kleenex, eucalyptus oil and various OTC remedies, that don’t really work now that they took all the good stuff out of them.
And yes, I’ll take a glass of wine to go with my whine, even though I can’t really taste it.