Can I Get a Little Help Over Here?

Men make crappy caregivers...to their wives, that is.  Where children are concerned, hubby is a child rearing wizard.  No complaints there.  But throw a sick wife in the mix and forget about it! Before I continue let me add this disclaimer: I too suck at taking care of my spouse.  I think I just have no patience for someone else who needs me!  All day long it's "Mommy!" so when he gets home from work, I'm looking for a little team effort.  

I am readily admitting that I have no room to complain here.

But I will.

Most of us ladies would probably agree that our duties around the house don't change when we're sick.  I can't figure it out, do they just not SEE the mess or is it a contest to see who can outlast the other in the game of "How High Can This Pile of Dishes Get?!"  If it's a game, that's not cool.  Because he knows that my mother hen nature will inevitably kick in when the kitchen starts to smell.  So he wins every time!

And what about the rug rats?  Does he not HEAR them whooping it up on my bed when I'm about to toss my cookies?  Maybe he thinks I take my meals in the office too!  I shall make it a point to tell him otherwise.  

Why don't we speak up ladies?  I really hoped that I had married a mind reader.  It is not so.  Instead of decoding my dirty looks as I'm loudly doing the dishes, he just walks around shaking his head, saying, "What?!"

Let me start by giving you the rundown of our day.  I woke up and scrambled to get the kids ready for school.  I dropped Lulu off at Auntie Annie, my savior's house, so I that I could go home and clean my unwashed body for court.  Yes, court!  You see there was the matter of a disagreement about the speed limit on a certain highway a couple of months back.  As I am headed to court, I get a call from Savannah's teacher saying that she has a 102 degree temp.  Holy cow!  How'd that happen? I had just taken her temp an hour and a half early and she was normal.  Great...I get to be that mom.  The one who sends her sickly child to school b/c I either can't tell the difference or I just don't care.   Awesome!  

So Auntie comes to the rescue again and  picks up my kindergartner while I go to court.  After two hours of traffic court, I was pretty sure that I had the fever "crud" too.  I picked Savannah up at Auntie's house, drove to preschool, only to discover that Lilah too had the CRUD.  Mother of the year!  

The three of us sick ladies, came home, piled into bed with Fred (the dog) who is the sympathetic male in my house and slept for like three hours.  The next couple of hours are a blur.  There was moaning, wailing, trips to the bathroom, and prayers to Jesus.  Thank goodness for Tylenol.  

Let me leave you with some tiny bright spots after all this whining.  When we pulled into our driveway after preschool, there was an Elf on the Shelf to greet us; a Christmas miracle that sent the girls over the moon.  Auntie to the rescue AGAIN!  

And you've gotta love this.  While I was vegged out on the couch I looked at Savannah and said, "Why can't Daddy be here NOW?" She looked indignant and replied, "I know! Doesn't he know that you are not very tough?!"  

Later, I was shooing children out of my room, trying to explain that I was watching a rerun of "Pulp Fiction" which is NOT for kids.  Savannah nodded saying, "We can't watch this stuff.  It might teach us bad adult words like stupid, crazy, or OLD."  

If she only knew just how right she is!