This is Me Venting

Sort of.  Mostly.  Ok, totally.

Like about how much it stinks to be sick while you're pregnant...or anyway, how much it stinks to experience those few hours before you're really sick, where you're going, "Wait.  It's not cold in here--the thermometer says it's 68F.  So why do I have chills?"  Then you look down at the feverish, squalling, trying-to-pull-your-hair-because-it-calms-him boy in your lap, and go "Oh."

Then you realize that maybe your neck hurting isn't just because you spent the night wedged between two toddlers who were the approximate temperature of two incandesant lightbulbs that have been on since 1986.

Then, if you're a nurse, you go, "Oh great.  I've probably got spinal meningitis and THAT will just be fabulous."

Then, of course, you go talk yourself down and point out to yourself it's really really unlikely that you have spinal meningitis.  Maybe you just have a sore neck, Paranoia Jones.

The thing about being a mom is that when you're sick, you naturally have less patience and want to lay in one spot, not do anything, and be cranky/sleep.  Only when your kids are sick at the same time that you are, you don't have that option.  They can't stagger to the kitchen and get their own Pedialyte, and they poop more than ever, and they get sad when the orange crayon doesn't magically turn purple when they wish it would.  So you have to twist your sore neck and stagger around getting Pedialyte and purple crayons, and listening to Dora and Diego go on about saving water again and again and again.

Listen, motherhood has its perks...and I know that the Lord is with me (Miss Boo told me today during a particularly desperate prayer aloud that I didn't have to shout at Him)... but let's face it, motherhood has its--moments, as well.

All of you with healthy wives--go get them something nice tonight, huh?  Flowers or something?  The Husband is too sick and weary himself to do anything of the sort, but it's just about as nice to see the appreciative, pitying look in his eye when he says "Well, honey, I like leftovers."

Oh, and the dude bought me a Kindle a while ago that is supposed to be delivered tonight.  So how cool is that?  The thing holds 3200 books, and you can get software to upload PDFs and MS Word documents to it, and it has a nifty slide-out booklight so I can read at night while sitting on Miss Boo's bed as she falls asleep.  (No, Grammy, reading in dim light doesn't damage your eyes.  I looked it up--it's been disproven, like the whole bacon-gives-you-heart-attacks thing.  You can stop feeling guilty about my high prescription; it wasn't your fault for letting me read too much/forcing me to use a booklight more.)

There, I've cheered me up.

Cheers,

Breanna