My wee ones are feelin poorly, and I’m not feelin well, either.
Moo’s got a cold, but Sassy’s got a whole other puke etc thing goin on. My tummy is churning. I think it’s trying to trick me into putting more food in there, so it can laugh as it all comes back up. We’ll see.
Blogging for EvDaDaDe (Every Damn Day December) doesn’t seem to care.
Being sick feels like a luxury I can afford now. I’m totally serious. I’ve been bed-ridden for three days this year, and my husband was home for each and every one of those days.
This is a crucial factor in my wellness, because I have been sick through many, many days of my husband’s absence, and that shit is not easy.
You know what will give you anxiety?
When you are sick, alone with two small children.
It’s not nice when the children have strep, scarlet fever, or rotavirus — but when you’re the only adult to care for them, it’s worse.
And worse than either of those is when you’re all sick.
I hadn’t had strep in thirty-some years when I got it. My mother always says strep just sucks the life out of you. She was NOT kiddin.
I was just so tired. Tired like I could sleep myself right into death.
I’d get up, make breakfast, holler to people, lie back down, get up, do hair, lie back down, amble off to the bus stop, come home and lie back down, sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep, get up, amble to the bus stop, go home, lie back down, get up and make a snack, lie back down…
Surely you get the picture.
My strep lasted about ten days, because the Army doc thought I had the flu. Fortunately, five days later, my strep test came back positive, the hospital called me, and I was able to get some penicillin, which makes me dizzy and nauseated, so it’s a real treat for my anxiety. Woot.
My laundry piled up like a mountain. *gasp*
My dishes soaked in the sink, where the water developed a film. *shudders*
My floors. Oh, my floors.
Personal hygiene? Oh, you mean the part where I sat down in the shower to wash my hair, or the time I put bubble bath in the tub, slipped into, almost slept, and called it bathing?
I love my flannel love monkey jammies, and I didn’t get to wear them much in Georgia, but I wore them the entire time I had strep, because chills.
My neighbors did kindly things, like take my kids for dinner and a playdate. True brought me stew. She stood in the doorway and she had to run, but she brought me stew.
During the strep, Base Housing decided that it would be good to reinforce everyone’s attics, since sometimes the built-in stairs fell down on people’s heads. Seriously.
I told the maintenance man that I was ill, and he could not come in. He cautioned me about the danger, I thanked him and took my sick ass back to bed.
SO HE STARTED ON MY NEIGHBOR’S ATTIC!
>Bang! Bang! Bang!<
I put on clothes, then I lay down for awhile, then I got up and dragged the basket of laundry from my closet so he could get in there.
I suppose “normal” people are not bothered by such things, but I have Anxiety Disorder. I keep a clean house, and I usually do not look like I’ve lived in a hole for a week.
I found a picture under “woman with strep,” but her hair was far too groomed, and she didn’t even have dark circles under her eyes, so I fixed her for you. You’re welcome.
So, yeah, maybe I’m comin down with a sick.
Maybe I’m just worn out, and I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.
But either way, the point is, my husband is not deployed. I will not suffer anxiety caused by sole responsibility (or filth.)
Motherhood is hard.
Never underestimate how hard it is to be a single parent.
It’s hard enough to be the sole caretaker when you’re not the primary breadwinner — can you imagine being both?!
I’ve always known it was hard work, but deployments brought on empathy.