I stopped at the counter, and I stood there for a good two minutes. What was it I needed?! I couldn’t remember.
As I stood there in a brain fog, with that discombobulated, stuffy sinus-head feeling I pondered why in the world I had walked across the room.
And although I finally remembered, it still irked me that I felt so disconnected, that I felt so bad. Was it because I was getting older? Shouldn’t I feel better after my sick day yesterday?
It’s true. Yesterday I took a sick day. I did absolutely nothing. Well, except some little stuff I had to do. You know?
And then I really thought about it. I thought about how when I was in my early twenties I would chug some medicine, and purposefully go into a NyQuil coma to evade all icky feelings of a cold.
I would wake refreshed 14 hours later, and then I’d be on my merry, “I’m all over being sick” way. Yeah. Yesterday may have been a little different.
On Mommy sick days childcare still exists. When I woke up sick my children didn’t magically disappear, or spirit themselves off to grandma’s. That probably would have helped, but in my bold belief of “I’m all good,” and “I got this,” I try to continue forward as if my head doesn’t feel like it will explode, and that I can breathe out of both nostrils.
Kids don’t care if you’re sick. They still expect food, snuggles, and energetic playtime. As I found myself dizzy from picking up little balls of play doh under the table I realized my handicap. My children did not.
“What are we gonna do today?”
“It’s so boring in here!”
“Let’s play Dogcatcher.”
“Mommy doesn’t feel good” just doesn’t compute with little minds intent on you, aka, the dog catcher, chasing them around the house.
Then there’s housework. They say the only things certain in life are death and taxes. I would probably add dirty laundry. Maybe even dishes. As long as the earth continues to spin, and the sun rises in the east then I will always have dirty laundry and dishes. It’s never-ending. Even if I feel like crap.
I could probably slack off a bit, and admittedly I did. After all, it was a sick day. So I did three loads of laundry, folded them, and put them away. I cleaned the kitchen, and homeschooled my child. Made a delicious dinner from scratch. Oh, and I kept two little humans alive all day.
Mommy sick day.
I slacked off by not repainting our bedroom, or rearranging the living room furniture.
It’s no wonder I didn’t feel rested after my meager six hours of sleep. Laundry was done for the week, because that’s what my weird Mommy brain told me I must do, and off to work I went. And yes, I even played Dogcatcher.
I realize my husband does this too. It’s not just a Mom thing, and not even just a parent thing. It’s a “I’m a grown-up now” thing. With grown-up responsibilities. My mortgage and car payment won’t let me guzzle NyQuil at noon, and sleep the sleep of the unhampered college kid.
When I left this morning my daughter told me she didn’t feel well. I gave her some medicine. Then I rocked her for a bit. Finally I tucked her under the covers, and kissed her forehead. I knew that if she wanted she could lay there all day.
All I could think was enjoy it kid! One day sick days will look way different.