DH missed his flight this morning. Hopefully he gets on stand-by later and makes it in time to take the kiddies to Church. Oh, and let me rest. Seriously, I'm miserable. I'm prone to sinus infections --yep, got hit this morning. Oh, and it's in my lungs now, thanks to Mr. Asthma. That's no fun. OH! And #4 decided he needed to nurse at 10PM, 2AM, 5AM, and 7:45AM. So, good-bye to sleep. Well, at least REM sleep. :)
I've decided why I hate being sick so much (besides the obvious reasons of pain, fatigue, and yuckiness). I can't take care of myself. In college, if I would get sick, I would cancel everything for two days, take my meds and sleep all day. That would always mean skipping class, ignoring my roommates, etc. but it turned out to be the absolute best thing in the world. I would recover so quickly --but if I kept going and going while sick, it would take weeks to recover, and my school work would show the slip in brain function. I deemed it worthy to miss a few days to take care of myself and speed up recovery.
When DH gets sick, he still usually goes to work--but he does a good job of coming home and sleeping. I try really hard to take care of him, but he's not like the baby I become --just moody. :) But I take care of the house, the kids, the meals, etc. so he can rest and recover.
Me?
I'm alone with the kids all day. I can't shut down like I did in college. I have other people to take care of --and usually DH is very good about helping when he comes home. But he can't nurse the baby, and he can't be here all day, and then this weekend, of course, he had to be in Provo, so it was all me and Mr. Sickness. And here are a few happenings:
- #3 decided that wearing poopy diapers are yucky and took it off, coming down the stairs with the poopy diaper in hand and the rest of it attached to his bum...
- #1, thinking it was a game, locked BOTH doors on the jack-and-jill bathroom (the kids' bathroom). Luckily, nobody was in there...
- It rained and rained and rained. Hooray for moisture! Boo for kids stuck inside...
One good thing came about --my kids prayed with me that the doors to the bathroom would be opened. After trying with a paperclip, I got my old library card, looked at the front picture of the old Brigham Young Academy, said "Help me here, Brigham" and slid it through. It cracked, I tried again, and the door pushed open without any effort at all. We immediately said a prayer of thanks. My girls know that prayers are answered (what I did to open that door shouldn't have worked...).
So, now, as I write this, I feel better. Sometimes I just have to vocalize how I'm feeling in order to feel better. Hey, I'm a woman, right?
But please hurry home, DH...the dishes are calling for you...
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