Why is it that when the wigglers get sick they are down for, like, a day… tops… and then, when Hubs and I get it, we need IV fluids and enough cold medicine to drop an African Elephant? Their noses ooze green goo but our lungs stop working, crammed full of contagion, and both of us walk around the house gasping like carp in a cow pond. We can barely muster the energy to shower while they are still launching themselves off the furniture with a 103 degree fever. They become hot, cranky little fireballs comprised only of unnamable green substances and viruses, they whirl around the house leaving snot trails on the walls. Oversized banshee garden slugs … woe to those who cross their paths!
Not that I don't get why they are cranky. Being sick and unable to take the “fun” drugs has GOT to suck. Daddy and I get Supa-Happy-Cold-And-Flu and they get… Ibuprofen. *crickets* They totally get gypped on that one. Cause it is BAD for them… right? *Sigh* The only downside to being able to take said happy pills is that afterwards, all I want to do is lay on the couch in nothing but my fluffiest bathrobe and a thick blanket of my own misery, moaning and crying… but I can't… because I'm an adult… damnit. I feel bad for them, I really do, but a small (but very loud) voice in the back of my head keeps shrieking “You did this to me! You brought it in! We are all DOOOOMED!”.
But is it really their fault? Nah. Like rats off a plague ship, someone else’s kids snuck into town overnight and infected us all. And now down we go, oozing buboes and all, completely blindsided and praying for it all to be over. We all weather the storm and the kids start to feel better. They eat like starving men and are ready for a snuggle while Hubs and I are still downing decongestants like they are candy and have noses like leaky faucets… for the next two weeks… Of course. Because that’s what makes it fun. Now, where’s my Mucinex?
Da widdle owls make me feewl better...