Thursday, February 11, 2010

Germs Stink REALLY Bad

My 7th grade math teacher, who was phenomenal BTW, told us the first day of class that she hates the word/ phrase "this sucks" and to please use "stinks really bad" in her class. That stuck with me-- it gets the same point across YET it's not quite as crude. (I should also mention that my mother despises that word as well, so even as an adult, I feel like it is a "bad" word.) Hence the title of this blog post.

But I digress.

Last week, Gabe was sick. Like fever, didn't move much, just laid around-- and for a 6 year old, especially this 6 year old, that is a BIG deal. Chad stayed home with him the first day and when I got home from work, I noticed that Gabe wasn't being treated "properly" according to my rules of sickness. You see, in my house growing up, if you were sick, my mom made you a "bed" on the couch in front of the tv, with blankets all around you, your pillow from your bed, a drink with a straw, and control of the remote. But I decided that I didn't really need to bring it up since I was going to stay with sicky the next day, and I could "right" the wrong.

And then it happened, late Sunday night (around the time the Colts started losing) my head started pounding... my glands were noticeably swelling and I couldn't decide whether I was hot or cold.  One minute I was sweating, the next I was shivering... I was sick.  By Monday morning, I thought my head was going to explode.  Chad stayed home and took care of Max and I stayed in bed and slept.  Around noon, I decided I was hungry, and went downstairs to take my place on the couch, aka my sick bed.  But much to my dismay, Chad was sitting in the middle of the couch, and wanted me to "share" it with him.  It was time to explain the rules.  So I told him how you're supposed to act when someone is sick, and explained their rights.  I did a great job, demonstrating how one should be tucked in, and when it was appropriate to refill their glass and offer food.

And much to my dismay, he laughed, kept the remote in his hand AND stayed on the couch.  I pouted a little (he didn't care) but decided to save the fight for when I had more energy.

By Tuesday night, Max was a little "off"- and when I came home around 1:30 on Wednesday, he was going down hill fast.  Once Chad got home, we both hovered around our sick baby all night.  The poor baby honked when he breathed, his cry didn't sound like him, when he sneezed, we all need a bath.  Somehow his nose was stuffy and running at the same time, and HUGE coughs came out of his little body.  I decided that having my arms amputated without anesthesia would've been less painful that holding a sick baby that you can't help.  He had to sleep in his car seat, which we put in his crib, so that he could breathe.

(Now I know this is only a cold, and the first of many many sicknesses to come, but it's terrible and I hate it.)

So after all the sickness in the Bowman house, and therefore my sadness, I decided that this is one of my least favorite parts of parenting.  It's really hard not to be able to help- even after cleaning out the Rite Aid :( And regardless of the "rules" and all comfort measures, having sick kids sucks... I mean stinks REALLY bad.  

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