Sick Days

As an adult, it's kind of funny how weird I've become about taking sick days. I hate hate hate to take them. Hate mixed with fear. I have too much going on to be sick. Being sick ruins the momentum I've built up around work, family, home, kid lessons, and other stuff like volunteering on a board and pretending I write regularly on this blog. If I stop "swimming" I might die. Like a shark. This is a shark fact I think I know. I dope up (on Dayquil, cough syrup, headache medicine, coke zero, plus always honey and cinnamon because duh, I'm "earthy") and pretend I'm fine until I'm fine.

But as a parent, when the kids are taken down, there is no choice. This is going to be day two of staying home with a sick kid. Otto was yesterday with a little fever, a little throw up, some glassy eyes. He rallied by afternoon and I was like, "Praise ye gods my health-robot golden child has beaten another flu season!" Then Loretta got sent home from preschool with a fever, glassy eyes.... Effff. Emmmm. Ellllll.

When Otto's sick he looks at you with puppy dog eyes and asks, please, for crackers and Disney Infinity. When Loretta's sick you ask her if she wants crackers and she scream growls, "NO MY NO WANT CRACKERRRRRS!" And when you stroke her forehead and whisper, "Ok, no crackers," she screams, "WANT MY CRACKERS NOW!"

In other words, I am in for it today. We all held our breath thinking she'd sleep it off like Otto and his 4-hour illness. But no.

And so I find myself about to take my second sick day in a row. And I'm like panicking. About work. About momentum. About existential shit which, why am I doing that? This day, in the great scheme of things, will be made up for. Loretta and I will get a one-on-one day, and it will be special. Just like yesterday with Otto was pretty great. We played board games and watched way too much tv. Loretta and I can do the same. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, here we come.

when mama feels janky, something something, zzzzz

I don't know about you guys, but I have a bottomless to-do list that kind of defines my every action on the weekends. Any and everything I want to get done for and around my house goes on the list throughout the week and then I wake up bright and early on Saturday morning and start plowing through the list, feeling like a badass, and getting energized by gettin-stuff-dun and crossin-stuff-off. It's pretty much how I stay not overwhelmed by... everything.

So yesterday started off a-ok. We did our Target errands and got a couple of packages put together for Monday's mail and I paid bills, all before 11am! We went to a playdate and came home for lunch and then my head fell off and I died.

Not my proudest afternoon, I think I actually barked at my children. I did not leave the couch. I gargled whiskey and let Rob feed us all frozen pizza (thank you, honey, that was awesome of you) and then I threw up my pizza and made out with my shiatsu back pillow and for the first time in her life I slept through one of Etta's midnight wakeups (I woke up at the tail end of it and Rob was like negotiating with her, "you have been awake for 45 minutes please please please go night night?").

Wha happen? I dunno. I feel ok now but my weekend is thrown. The house looks a mess. On the bright side, my hair looks weirdly good like those white-girls-with-dreads girls I always see and think, "she is so cool; I bet she surfs." Alas, my big plans to have a breakfast feast today and take pics of some amazing nut butters and hot sauces by Frankie V's Kitchen have been pushed back to next weekend. As have quite a few other things on the to-do list and I'm having pre-anxiety about it but you know what.

Tears in a bucket, mother-Eff it. Moms get sick sometimes too and I can't be sick tomorrow, it's a big day at work, so I'm laying low today. Bustin out the slippers that vaguely resemble Uggs as shoes. If I can manage to get the grocery shopping done I'm calling it a success. Let the world assume I surf. xo