Sthiiiick

Look how warm he looks...you can just tell he's miserable.

Here goes, in my best sing-songey voice "Moooom, I'm sthiiiiick." No, that's not the boys telling me they are sick, but me asking for my Mommy. I hate it when any of my boys get sick, and I'm sick too! How am I supposed to make chicken noodle soup/wipe noses/do laundry/clean up puke/force fluids while I am clearly ill and need rest myself? I want Mom to come over and take care of me so I can take care of my sick boys like a Mom is supposed to. I remember my Mom used to let me sleep in her bed all afternoon with the TV on. She had access to some unlimited supply of jello and popsicles that we could divulge in whenever we felt like it. She would hang blankets over the curtains to make it that much darker and easier to sleep. The latest Baby-Sitters Club book was mine! Sometimes, I almost secretly coveted sick days.

Connor's fever this morning was 101.8. He's warm all over. He just wants to cuddle me and is refusing any liquid other than milk, and it's even a challenge to get him to sip that. I swear he thinks I've tainted the milk with some nasty medicine. (Riiight!) The husband is off looking at motorcycles (what the f@#& do we need one of those for right now?) and I just want to crash but oh no, can't do that with three young boys awake.

I suppose my care goes to the wayside and I'll just hold onto my sweet, warm boy a little longer. I'm sure he'll doze eventually. I'll do just like my Mom used to, so my boys will someday know just what to do when one of their own children says "Mooooom, I'm sthiiiiick."