(Wo)Man Cold
I rarely get sick, so -- when I actually do -- it's generally a Pretty Big Deal. And this last week, this Pretty Big Deal manifested itself in the form of a five-day fever, complete with white throat bumps and prolonged chills followed by sudden heat that drenched my clothing several times a day.
This was wonderful, though, because
it gave me a fantastic excuse to just lie around much of the day and watch TV. I plugged Mr. C into cartoons in the morning while I dozed on the couch, then added a Disney movie to the mix around lunch time. When I put him down for his nap, I crashed in my own bed with yet another film. And, if Bee wasn't available to watch Mr. C after that, guess what? It was time for more TV!
Yes, I was a terrible mother; but Mr. C -- showing that he is truly a child of mine -- enjoyed himself thoroughly, as did I (considering the circumstances). And now, quite frankly, we're both sick of TV, and are back to our normal viewing habits (one video every 24-48 hours for Mr. C; I've cut back to only one movie every 12 hours).
Oddly enough, as sick as I was, I didn't feel like I was going to die. I was pretty capable the entire time . . . just slightly worn out. This is in marked contrast to how Bee reacts when he has a Man Cold; a difference that I still find fascinating. I made my own meals, did my own dishes to keep the germs away from the family, retrieved my own medicine in the middle of the night, and made myself about 3 dozen cups of tea. I was so used to just doing things for myself that, by the third day of my illness, Bee began begging me to let him do something for me so that -- in his words -- he wouldn't feel like such a pussy next time he got sick.
Well, maybe those weren't all his words.
And I had to admit that perhaps part of the reason I was pushing through so strongly was so I could prove to Men-kind everywhere one irrefutable fact: it is entirely possible to be sick without expecting the world to come crashing to a halt for you. Chicks do it all the time.
This was wonderful, though, because
it gave me a fantastic excuse to just lie around much of the day and watch TV. I plugged Mr. C into cartoons in the morning while I dozed on the couch, then added a Disney movie to the mix around lunch time. When I put him down for his nap, I crashed in my own bed with yet another film. And, if Bee wasn't available to watch Mr. C after that, guess what? It was time for more TV!
Yes, I was a terrible mother; but Mr. C -- showing that he is truly a child of mine -- enjoyed himself thoroughly, as did I (considering the circumstances). And now, quite frankly, we're both sick of TV, and are back to our normal viewing habits (one video every 24-48 hours for Mr. C; I've cut back to only one movie every 12 hours).
Oddly enough, as sick as I was, I didn't feel like I was going to die. I was pretty capable the entire time . . . just slightly worn out. This is in marked contrast to how Bee reacts when he has a Man Cold; a difference that I still find fascinating. I made my own meals, did my own dishes to keep the germs away from the family, retrieved my own medicine in the middle of the night, and made myself about 3 dozen cups of tea. I was so used to just doing things for myself that, by the third day of my illness, Bee began begging me to let him do something for me so that -- in his words -- he wouldn't feel like such a pussy next time he got sick.
Well, maybe those weren't all his words.
And I had to admit that perhaps part of the reason I was pushing through so strongly was so I could prove to Men-kind everywhere one irrefutable fact: it is entirely possible to be sick without expecting the world to come crashing to a halt for you. Chicks do it all the time.
Oh, and a word to the wise: when one is sick with severe and unfamiliar symptoms and when one has just returned home from a doctor who cannot specifically name your illness, DO NOT choose that afternoon as a good one to watch Outbreak.
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