When Sickies Attack...

My little one has been home all week this week with a chest cold and fever. Her little head is hot and feverish, her chest is full of gunk, coughing is agony and her little throat is sore. This means two things in my world: a) Puddin’ is sore, cranky and demanding. It doesn’t matter that I’m sick with the same bug and feel like a truck ran over my face, what matters is that I crutch my way to wherever she is; ready, willing and able to do her bidding. B) Due to her sickness, and relative crankiness etc. I’m unable to leave my home for any reason short of it bursting into flames. So, this whole week has sort of been a child imposed prison sentence, the phone and my computer remain my only methods of contact with the outside world.

I wonder who will be Prime Minister when I am finally released?? When you are a Mother, there is equivocally nothing worse in this world than your child being sick. You waver between being willing to sacrifice your left arm for the return of your child's health, and wanting to beat that same child into submission with a large stick to quiet their constant demands. So far this week, this damn chest infection has screwed up my appointments to get our eyeballs checked, and my visit to the hospital to get x-rays done!! On top of all this, I am almost positive that this lovely wee chest virus left behind an ear infection as a sweet reminder of our time together. However, despite my fatigue and general “I feel like shit” motif, I am required to wait on Puddin’ hand and foot because she has also contracted this virus. Remember those good ole’ days when Puddin’ went to school for a few hours, leaving me to general peace and harmony? I long for those days now, yet they seem so far away now...a beautiful dream I can't quite recapture...

If she’s not better by tomorrow, we are going to have to make a wee trip to the doctor. I hate to do it, especially now that “they” are warning so strongly against giving your little ones too many antibiotics. I'm beginning to realize, however, that because, other than this stupid inner ear infection, this virus cleared up for me, I may have been a titch overconfident that the same would happen for Puddin'. Unlike my flu-bug, her virus taunts us, holding back enough to give us hope that it’s clearing up, only to flare up again the next day, smiling viciously and waggling its tongue rudely. Personally, I think a round of antibiotics may be in order just to show that cheeky virus whose boss round these parts!!

My poor darling is hanging in there, lying listlessly on the couch demanding I get her cold beverages and soups. Failure to give in to these demands, or meet them in a timely fashion, results in Puddin’ throwing her body around the couch as though she’s having an epileptic fit and emitting high pitched squeaks of anger. (Squeaking being her only method of communication since losing her voice yesterday.) I, for one, am fast growing weary of being the servant; especially given I suffered all the same symptoms up to two days ago!! My only solace really, is that now I am at the tail-end of this cheeky bug, where Puddin’ is still right in the trenches with hers. This means, in all likelihood, she will remain home for the week, and I will remain her hostage...er...faithful Mama for at least a couple more days.

The other day a friend of mine asked me sincerely why I looked as though I hadn’t slept in weeks. Perhaps this is, in part, due to the fact that when Puddin’ is sick, I allow her to sleep in my bed. Nothing could be more fun for the both of us. She sleeps quite peacefully whilst I get treated to slaps in the face, and little toes in the most inappropriate and painful of places. One day, I shall learn how to say “no” when I am facing demands from a runny nosed little person whom, for reasons known only to the God’s themselves, I cannot deny a damned thing to save my very soul.