I've always considered myself pretty good when it comes to a crisis. Put me in front of a car accident, or anywhere that someone is hurt and needs help and I'll know what to do. I know that I'm not afraid of blood, and because I'm one of those 'get it done' types I will jump in and take the lead if need be and do what needs to be done to straighten things out. I'm proud of times when I've been able to help someone in a scary circumstance, or even a not so scary one, because I'm good at organizing things and people, and I'm not afraid to get dirty or bloody.
I'm capable of sympathizing and empathizing and giving people all the mushy stuff they need when they need it. But if I don't think they need it? Well then I'm one of those "suck it up" and move on types. If you're not bleeding out your eyeballs or throwing up small internal organs, you can probably manage to go to school, work, etc. My mom was a hard ass when it came to that kind of thing, and I've apparently inherited that trait from her.
But then I caught a really bad cold this week ... and apparently all my organizing and 'get it done'-ness, and 'suck it up'-ness FLEW out the window and all I want is my mom. Even though she probably wouldn't have believed me anyways. My house is a mess, I'm behind on laundry, and there is barely enough food in the cupboards to get thru the next 3 days.
But let me be REALLY clear here ... this is a REALLY bad cold. Like EPIC. Like I've gone through 3 boxes of kleenex in 3 days kind of cold. If I was a commercial I'd be asking Pam to call my mom kind of cold. Sneezes that involve all 4 limbs and scaring the crap out of the baby kind of cold. And if I came across that chick in the Advil Cold commercial who pops a pill and goes for a run in the rain, I'd probably punch her in the throat...if I had the strength. I look, and feel, like a sack of shit. Just take a moment and really think about that ... that's pretty bad isn't it? Sacks of shit are nasty.
I pushed out a 10+lb baby in 5 minutes, I've broken 2 feet and an arm and got right back on the horse/mechanical bull/party wagon, and I've had major surgery that involved removing over 4 pounds of ME before, and I was totally fine with it .... but I am SUCH a wimp when I'm sick. I want hugs, and sympathy, and Lipton chicken noodle soup. I want someone to bake me cookies, and make me tea and cinnamon toast like my grandma used to do when I was a kid. Doesn't the world know how rotten I feel? WHY ISN'T ANYONE RUBBING MY FEET?!
However, all this time I've been battling my EPIC cold, my two young sons have also been sick. Middle Child (he's 3) brought the lovely germs home and he's battling a cough that makes me cringe and wonder if TB is making a comeback in 2013. Last Child (he's 3 months) sounds not unlike a very tiny baby seal coughing and barking and squealing and blowing snot bubbles at me. So I've channelled all the 'suck it up' I can and tried to pretend I'm sick so I can snuggle and console and bounce and rock and wipe noses and suck snot out with the little rubber bulb thingy. (Which is super gross but kind of fun too)
Funny thing is, I actually feel better when I'm keeping busy taking care of them. I haven't had too much time to feel sorry for myself. Enough to keep the self-pity fires burning low, but I'm managing. I know there are people out there who are fighting real problems, big ones, and doing alright. They couldn't possibly feel as awful as my EPIC cold, but I'm sure to them they feel like really big deals.
And I may not have my momma here to make me soup, or Grandma to make me tea and toast, but I've got my big hurly burly husband who comes home every day after work, gives me big hugs, takes the baby and feeds and cuddles him, plays with the middle child, and washes the dishes ... and that's a pretty close second. Now if I could only get him to rub my feet ....
Have a happy day. :) *sniff*sniff*cough*ACHOO!*
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