My kids have been sick, on and off, for about a month.
I have to say, it's easier when they all get sick at once, then for one to get it, and rotate it through the others. Better to suffer a few days of torment, then have weeks of the vicious circle that is one well, one sick, oops, back to kid #1, now it's kid #3.....
And it's worse when my number finally comes up.
Ben was on steroids for five days, which was just enough to help him over the coughing hump, but also just enough to suppress him and he caught a cold...which he passed on to me.
I was sick all last weekend. It was pretty mild, and I still went to work. Every third coworker was sniffling, so I wasn't exactly introducing everyone to something new.
I found a new appreciation for the Quils. Quil of the Day, and Quil of the Night.
I also found that I am capable of homicidal anger, even in my sleep.
I can count on the fingers of one hand, the times I've been so mad that I wanted to seriously hurt my husband. A couple might not count, as they were due to childbirth, which technically, is half my fault.
We generally get along well. Give, take, whatever makes the machine run smoothly.
The other night, however...
I feel someone pushing my shoulder back and forth. Back and forth. Hard. WTH? I wake up, startled..."what?" "You're snoring up a storm, hon." "Sorry." I am about to drift off again, but not before I realize I have to use the bathroom. And get a drink of water. And blow my nose.
I settle in again. I'm just falling back asleep, drifting, drifting....when my hand is suddenly bouncing off the mattress. Twice.
"WHAT??" I hiss through clenched teeth. I know what's next.
"You're really going at it again."
DAMMIT. No, no, no. I'm tired. I'm sick. I'm not dealing with this all night.
I jump out of bed, grabbing my fuzzy socks up off the floor, snatching a pillow, and feeling my blood start to boil as I stammer out: "I'm sick. I can't help it. STOP WAKING ME UP."
I stagger down the hall, stopping only to put on my socks. I head for the magic chair, pull the blanket over me, and am just mad, mad, mad. I listen to see if he followed me. I'm half hoping he did, but not disappointed that he didn't.
I'm reclined, and I am awake. The dogs start shifting around in their crates, because they hear me and now they need to get comfortable again. It's a while before I fall asleep, so there is plenty of time to contemplate, stew, plan Spy vs. Spy forms of retaliation.
If you're gonna be waking me up in the middle of the night with that much persistence, it better be for something involving nudity. Not for snoring.
Especially since my snoring is nothing really new. It just varies by degree. You'd think I'd be able to catch some "oh, she's sick" slack.
I know he meant no harm. But what was he thinking, that I have some magic 'stop-snoring' switch, like a reset or something? I was already on my side, so I don't think shifting positions would've helped. Usually, he is the one who leaves the room, I just beat him to it this time.
I woke up to the sound of the alarm. I thought I'd turned that off on my way out of the room last night. Hmmph. Serves him right, I'm thinking, to have to jump over my side to turn that puppy off.
Beep, beep, beep--why is it still going??
Because it is sitting next to me in the living room. He moved his little clock by me. I can't even see to turn it off, I'm just pushing buttons blindly until it stops.
He called later as I was making breakfast, to make sure I was up, the kids were all up...and for a brief, childish second, I considered not answering the phone.
It's taking a while longer than I thought, but I'm getting over it.
My cold, I mean.