About 2 or 3 weeks ago, John got sick. Some kind of bizarro cold thing that took hold and didn't let go... for like a week. It sucked on so many levels. For starters, John hates being sick. Now I know nobody necessarily likes it, but John really truly can't effing stand it - and he's not very good at the whole sick thing either. He's generally too mopey and/or exhausted to really enjoy the opportunity to just sit back and do virtually nothing. He also apologizes profusely because I have to pick up his slack in the cooking/chores/pups departments. Despite me telling him not to apologize, and that it's my pleasure, and that I know he'd do the same thing for me, the apologies keep coming.
Anyway, cut to about a week ago, and I am hit hard... crazy hard... with a really bad bout of the stomach flu. It was as if someone told every atom of food and fecal matter in my body to run... not walk to the nearest exits... those being my ass and my mouth. It was by far the most violent illness I've had in recent memory. For the first night, I didn't sleep. This was not by choice. I stayed up the entire night watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy in-between what seemed like millions of trips to the bathroom. For John, this was payback time. He got to take care of me - and when my illness proved to be shorter-lived than his, he insisted on continuing to take care of me, despite the fact that I was perfectly capable. (Now perhaps you're the nauseous one).
Anyway, We often find ourselves feeling incredibly grateful that we're not sick simultaneously for obvious reasons.
What the hell does this have to do with having children you ask?
Well, I've noticed that families with young children seem to get sick as a family - as in all at the same time, and this prospect is truly terrifying.
What do you do as a family when not a single one of you is capable of doing anything at all? Starve? Drown in your own dirt? Cry?
Ick.
P.S. Aren't you glad I didn't find an image better suited to this post?
