Thoughts on a sick day

Just kidding.

Moms really don’t get sick days. Parents don’t really get sick days. Unless we check into a motel.

Ladies, your husband can be as helpful as all get out, like mine is, but if your children KNOW that you’re in the house they’ll wonder what you’re up to. They cannot stay away. They just can’t help themselves. And they will find you.

Eventually their curiosity will get the better of them and they will need to confirm or deny their suspicions. For all they know, you could be hiding upstairs, playing with toys and eating copious amounts of chocolate. This is what they envision we do when we shuffle them off to bed in a hurry or drop them at the grandparent’s house for a few hours to ourselves.

Eat junk food and play with toys.

Because what else is more interesting than chocolate and toys? Surely not sleep. Sleep just isn’t interesting. Don’t worry, they’ll find out one day. And then they’ll want nap time back, just like we do.

Only one minor complication. See, they aren’t supposed to go check on mom. Cus dad says so. This is where having siblings is actually quite useful. For conspiracy.

One distracts daddy with requests for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or help wiping their bottom while the other one climbs the stairs. Little feet, toddling upward.

Then they reach your door and come right on in because why exactly would you ever think they would gently knock again?? They practically own the joint. Schucks, they were wrong. No chocolate. Just mom. Sleeping. Ew.

You were asleep, snoring like the dickens because you can’t breathe out of your nose. By this point, you’ve covered your face with a pillow because THIS CANNOT BE (and because maybe you want to put yourself out of your misery.)

 There cannot be a tiny person wearing Cars pajamas standing in your doorway going, “mommy?? what are you DOING?” This must be an all too vivid dream brought on by the fever or the meds.

You should probably check the box to make sure you didn’t get a hold of medicinal marijuana or something. You know you must look bad when even your child looks like they are judging you. Kids eat dirt and think Spongebob is funny. Their standards are low. So when they ask what you are doing and they wrinkle their nose just a tiny bit….you must be in a sad state.

Whelp, since they’re already there, they may as well ask mom for more juice or to help them build an intricate Lego model. It’s safest to just go ahead and get this out-of-the-way before they’re caught by daddy.

Eventually your husband does come in and shuffle them out. Until next time. They wave goodbye, but when daddy isn’t looking, they do that whole Robert DeNiro eye thing…

little_fockers_movie_posters_stiller_de_niro_slice_01

And round and round we go.

 
So, anyway, the other day I spent my lunch time sitting in one of those convenient/quick care doctor’s offices. One of those places that people drag themselves into like zombies because they couldn’t get up in time to make it to the doctors because FLU or they’re like me and forget who their primary care doctor even is.
The type of clinics that do basic health assessments, X-Rays, stitches, car repairs, food delivery, laundry services, movie rentals and tire changes? Yea, that’s the one.
The husband took time off of work to manage the children while I waded through a sea of sick people to plead for meds for my burning throat. While I waited, I surreptitiously drained my cellphone battery.
 

While thinking:

I like the paint colors in here. It’s like that beachy blue/green and tan combo that’s so popular right now? Wonder if this is Benjamin Moore. And if this is Benjamin Moore…I need to check out Pinterest…and if I check out Pinterest…*creates 24 new boards*

I wonder if the other folks in here had the chance to notice and appreciate the colors in between hacking up a lung or having a fish-hook removed from their hand…?

If I wasn’t already sick, I’m in for it now. I’m pretty sure that my sitting amongst no less than a dozen other sick people means I’ve almost certainly contracted Ebola.

Why is there a piece of art work with a rhombus on it?….This place almost had me convinced that it was reputable until that.
 
I wonder if I can sneak pictures of the paint palette and the rhombus….
photo 1-2
photo 2-3

BAM! Done….

Now how about a selfie…careful, now. Don’t wanna end up looking like these guys

This one looks pensive enough...#contemplative

This one looks pensive enough…#contemplative

Just kidding, don’t care as much as I thought I did…

photo 2-1

Might as well do duck lips…

photo 5-1

Upon closer inspection…I’m worried that I have a lazy eye. What do you guys think….

photo 3-1

Do I?

photo 4 DO I?!!

Maybe I should read the book I bought. I feel like that’s a sure-fire sign that one has officially reached adulthood. Bringing a book with you to read at places you know you’ll be stuck at is a sign of possessing the maturity to truly be prepared. The MVA. Doctors visits. Sitting in traffic…
 
I don’t understand why I’m waiting. These people don’t look so sick…
 
..Pretty sure someone just went in the bathroom and puked. Quick thinking on her part to run water in the sink while she was. It’s totally worked. Didn’t hear a thing.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Turns out I have strep. Or had. Yay for modern medicine. 
Happy Thursday, folks! 
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