S is for Sick and Sleep

      Here in my neck of the woods "S" is for sick and sleep. The kids go to school and catch whatever is being passed around the germ pool and then bring it home. Over the weekend it was finally my turn to feel miserable. 

    My nose filled up and began to run, my glands swelled, my eyes watered, and the tickle in my throat produced unbelievably long coughing jags that left me breathless and red in the face. I downed medicine cups full of Nyquil and Dayquil reminiscent of the old days when I did shots of tequila, Alabama Slammers, and Sex on the Beach hoping and praying I would feel relief from the creeping crud that has possessed me. Instead of feeling better, I only feel sleepy so I escape to my bed and dreamland.  Still I must soldier on because life waits for no one!

S is for Sleepy Saturdays

     Yesterday my daughter greeted the day feeling sick, and evidently today was my turn.  Her sore throat had dissipated settling into a good old fashioned head cold.  I seemed to have skipped the sore throat and went right to the head cold stage.  Even my son doesn’t seem to be in top form.


     

      Therefore after we returned from paying some bills, buying some groceries, and eating a bit of lunch, our beds seemed to call all three of us because we all ended up sound asleep burrowed deep into the covers surrounded by sleeping dogs and snoozing cats.  What a better way to restore the body and the soul when sick than to sleep?  

         A person needs their sleep to help regain strength and fight off sickness and infection.  My mom always used to say that if a person slept more than normal, they obviously needed to.  I believe that to be true. If I am tired, what will I gain by fighting it?  When sick, isn’t sleep the best true way to the road of recovery?  In my mind it is.  Obviously it is so according to the experts too.   So with no trains to catch, and no where to be, kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
      

R is for Retching

     Yes, you heard that right.  Last night my daughter came home from school complaining of a sore throat.  I woke up this morning to discover her hugging the toilet and retching.  UGH!   No fever, but vomiting violently and a severely sore throat.  What a way to start the weekend!!  I had little choice but to call her in sick to school and set her up for a day in bed wishing with all that is holy and good that I won’t find myself in a similar state in the near future.  

      I woke my son up and as soon as he got an eye full of his sick sister and it registered that she was staying home from school, he was ready to plead his case.  He wanted to stay home too, go figure.    So and so kicked him in the balls yesterday and that he hit his head on the playground the day before just didn’t cut the mustard.  No fever, no vomit spewing from the mouth, no diarrhea exploding from the other end equals a little boy that has no earthly reason not to go to school.  He was not amused, but I wasn’t either.  “At least after today you will get a couple days off!” I said, trying desperately for him to see the bright side.  I kissed him goodbye and put him on the bus to school, then headed back in to check on my oldest.  She was blissfully asleep.

       I turn tailed in a quick hurry and rushed out to my computer to write my submission for the letter R.  “Mommy!” a small voice calls.  UGH.  I set my daughter up in the middle of my bed, propped up with pillows with a full arsenal surrounding her to keep her entertained.  Several pillows, her glasses for reading, her latest book, her DS and games, a big bowl to puke in, and some Kleenex.  That should keep her under control while I write my blog!

       Deciding to be productive I filled the washing machine with laundry and added detergent.  That is when it happened!  I dropped the stupid laundry detergent on the floor and precious soap was oozing out at an alarming rate.   I can not afford to waste soap, especially not on a week where every penny counts.   Inspiration hit and before a second past I grabbed my flexible cutting board and a rubber spatula and was scrapping the lost detergent off the floor and into the jug.  I felt pretty accomplished on my save, a tad desperate perhaps, but accomplished.  I am WOMAN!! Hear me roar!

        Mommy!!! Away I go again!  Now I am searching for a Harry Potter DS game.  You put it where? You put it in your shoe? What the hell!!  Can’t anyone find a better place in this house to put DS games than in a shoe?  Why ask why?  Just find it!! The phone is ringing.   Mad dashes back to the living room searching for my cell phone.  It is my husband.  Quickly explaining our first born is home sick retching with a sore throat, how much the paycheck is, and what I plan to do with it down to the last cent.  He relays his plans, off to grab a load going to the opposite side of the country.  Wonderful, but the bad news he probably won’t get the load turned in for next week’s paycheck so it will be small.  I roll my eyes telling the love of my life we will deal with it THEN.  

        I have to write my R post!!  Now I feel like retching!! There is too much stress!! I can’t cope.  I CAN cope, and I will cope!! I will breathe.   I even fixed the DVD player this morning!  I feel like I am one sandwich short of a picnic and even if this retched post makes me sound like I am on the verge of free admittance to the funny farm; it is finished until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.