Sick Day

There are few things in life that wake you up faster than a puking kid in the middle of the night. Coffee and energy drinks have got nothing on the adrenaline rush of trying to avoid being thrown up on.

Last night Ava was really restless and rolling around like a crazy girl at 3 am, so I picked her up and headed out to the living room. I stopped at the linen closet to grab a blanket and just as I picked one up she started to gag and puke. Not your ordinary run-of-the-mill puke. Bbq chip puke. My instinct told me to lean her over the floor, to avoid being puked on. If there was a gold medal for avoiding being thrown up on, I would've won it. Put that in the olympics. It's harder than sychronized swimming. Puke ended up on the blanket and the floor and Ava.

I had to clean it, which meant touching soggy bbq chips. I'm still traumatized. I can't even look at the bag. Then I sprinkled some baking soda on it to avoid the always enticing smell of stale puke and headed to the couch to sleep with my baby the rest of the night.

Sick babies are one thing. But when I feel crappy too it's even worse. I have some sore throat/congestion issues today. I haven't been sick in so long I forgot how much it sucks. I really love breathing through my nose. It's the best. I miss it when it's gone.

The thing about being a mom, especially a stay-at-home mom, is you can't call in sick to work. Back in my pre-children days, if I was sick, rest was only a phone call away. I even got paid for my absense. That's a huge benefit. Sometimes I'd go to work anyway when I was sick, but I took comfort in knowing that when I got home I could go straight to bed. But when you're job is taking care of some stinky ladies all day, you're always on the job. I can't call in. No one will pay me to lay in bed everyday. No one pays me for anything, except in little girl hugs and kisses.

When I'm sick, and so is Ava, and so is David, I'm still on the job. Ava is wiping her boogers on me and David is watching boxing. I'm pretty much left to take care of myself. Alana is still healthy, so she can fetch the occasional thing, but she's only four and she's not my slave. I'll enslave her more when she can cook me stuff and drive.

I'm on the clock all the time, because motherhood doesn't rest for a head cold. It should take a one day hiatus for my birthday though.

I'm ready for bed. Typing is tiring.