Randomly Tandemly: The Sickies

When I was still at my old job, I had a friend who thought that when she was getting sick, if she didn't actually acknowledge it and say the word "sick" in reference to herself, she wouldn't get it. And so I became a recruit, which meant that every fall and winter the two of us spent weeks saying, "I'm not getting The S". Whether or not this theory can be indirectly correlated with a decrease in annual bouts of illness (good god, did I just reference statistics?) remains to be proven. **Sidebar - if any of you reading this dare to comment about statistics being applicable in "real life", I will know about it and hunt you down. But that is a topic for another day, and I digress.

The point is, at this moment, I am sick. I officially have The S and I'm not above saying I'm sick of being sick. I HATE being sick. I don't know anyone who enjoys it but I particularly loathe it, especially now that I'm an adult. Although I only have a cold, it's become pervasive to all other aspects of my life, which is an annoyance. The only upside to this blasphemous virus is that I could do a mean impression of Phoebe from Friends singing "Smelly Cat" in her sexy cold-battered voice. Otherwise, it's pure suckiness. I can't talk to people at work in a normal voice. My nose is sore and dry from blowing it so much. And I can't get any grad school work done because I fall asleep on the sofa like a 60-year-old man when I sit down at night. Then I have to turn around and get up for work the next morning along with getting my daughter off to preschool... and maybe even sit through a 3-hour class and drive 45 minutes home from campus on any given night. Yes, I'll have some cheese with this whine.

But let me back up for a moment. I initially picked up this cold about 2 weeks ago from my daughter. She just started petry dish, er - I mean preschool, this fall and ever since it's been an endless parade of colds and ENT infections. If I hear one more parent tell me we're in the "immunity building" stage I may be tempted to lick their face and share the love. For me, being sick these days is a not-so-nice reminder that I've grown up and out of the privilege of having someone to take care of me. Yes, I have a wonderful husband who will bring me hot tea and pick up my snotty tissues - but I've aged past the point of being "mom-ed" back to wellness. Gone are the days of laying around at home with nothing to do except making up the occasional bit of homework, being pampered by my mom who would often take the day off work to be with me, and getting to watch endless of amounts of junky TV without guilt.

Now it's my turn to do the mom-ing. I never feel resentful for having to take care of my daughter when she is sick. In fact, some lame little part of me actually enjoys her needing me a little more than usual, although I hate to see her sick because A) she is suffering and B) I will likely get whatever nastiness she has brought home. But I don't resent it because I love being a mom and knowing I'm helping my baby to feel better with the juice, chicken soup, and whatnot. And if I get a chance to stay home with her on the rare occasion - hey, who doesn't enjoy a Phineas & Ferb marathon?

As for my hubby... well, he's a man and all men are giant babies when they're sick. It's like it never sunk into their head when they moved out of their mother's house that the luxury of being mom-ed when sick would/should diminish. THIS I do get resentful about, simply because it's one of those trappings of antiquated gender roles. As nice as the idea might be to the men folk, I don't believe your gender should get you a free pass here. It's our turn as parents to be the caretakers, not the other way around. That goes for BOTH of us. I gave birth to one child, not two.

I guess my point is this: Although it's never fun to be sick, at least as a kid someone usually tries to make the best of the miserable experience for you, and your personal obligations are so minimal (if not nonexistent) that you can "enjoy" the break in routine without worrying about what isn't getting done. You can focus your energy on just taking care of yourself... something this mom hasn't done since the pre-kid age. Now excuse me while I go blow my nose and start another load of laundry.