You are normal, having your normal day, doing your normal things… then you lay on the couch. Laying on the couch for me is still normal. I have this ovewhelming need to sleep. Something my doctor calls depression, something I like to call narcolepsy but tisk tisk I guess thats a difference in opinion.
I went to the gym had a glorious work out. Yesterday was abs and cardio. I need to work on losing actual weight. Its a problem for me. The pounds don’t seem to be melting away. So help me I said gawd I just need to drop about 20 pounds right before I left the gym. I came home and laid on the couch suddenly feeling tired and sick. I thought well you did do a lot of fasting cardio today Beth… you might need to eat. Luckily for me I was too damn lazy to act on that thought.
The events from the next moments on until this morning are sketchy at best. I won’t go into detail because no one needs to read that but im pretty sure the bottom lining of my stomach is in the sewer. I did wake up this morning 8 pounds lighter. Sooo how about that for dreams coming true and crap.
Last evening the kids were avoiding me like the plauge. Mainly because I told them if they came within a 20 ft radius of me i’d just kill them and get the cycle over with. I knew why I was here in this mess. Its because I’m mom. Mothers since the dawn of time have to take care of the sick children. The boy and Em both had this on Saturday. I thought that some how I missed it. That I had somehow bleached my hands enough… but no. Sadly I’m Mom.
The husband didn’t partake in cleaning up activities so I knew he would be fine. Angrily I knew he would go right through this episode of sickness unscathed. It’s not that I want him to be sick. That’s not it at all, I’m just tired of being the one who does get sick.
So here I am at 6pm yesterday and I’ve decided that the husband has slept enough. He works nights just as I do but damn it I’m sick. Them kids are going to want to be fed soon and there is no way im going to be able to smell food at this moment. At this point I’m a man hater. I hate his guts. Here he is laying in that bed all comfortable and well and I am thinking of ways to make him feel this horrible pain I have in my abdomen. Ways that include taking my germ infested tounge and licking him across the face. Yes I’m that pissed that I’m sick and he is just sleeping.
I bust into the bedroom sick, whiny, pathetic and beg. Please go downstairs and make them kids dinner. He says about 5 choice words to me and I say… I don’t care. I’m sick. Get. Up. Thats pretty much the last I remember until 1 hour later I’m being poked and an equally whiny “man” voice is telling me that he too is sick. I felt bad for him, I did, but it was too late. I was already succumbed to the comfort that was my bed and moving me would be fatal I was sure. He somehow got the kids fed and ready for bed all by himself. A part of me wants to feel bad but I left that part of me in the toilet earlier that day. I slept almost exclusively from 6pm until 7 am this morning. The only reason I got up was to get them girls off to school.
Surprise! Its a snow day.