This is the third time that my husband has been in complete and total control of my son's care. Don't get me wrong, he's watched him during the occasional mani/pedi appointments, hair cuts, massages and quarterly girls night out. But he's been Mr. Mom since 10:30 Friday morning.
I woke up with a scratchy throat, but figured, mind over matter. So, I put my son in the stroller and we went on with our ritual of a morning walk. About halfway home, I started to feel as though I was on the last leg of a marathon. Total exhaustion. By the time we got home, I felt as though I was wearing a lead suit and walking against the ocean current. In the sand. After running a marathon.
I put my son down for his morning nap at 10:30 and there I was, thirty six hours later, still in bed. I had broken more fevers than I could recall and lost count as to how many ibuprofen I'd taken. My nose was raw and I peed a little a lot every time I coughed. Lovely.
Sounded like H1N1, given my symptoms (and based on my what my Mom's doctor told her when she called him about my symptoms). Guess she forgot that I'm 38. Oh well. Always her little girl!
Thank goodness my husband was still home on Friday since my being sick totally hijacked his day ... and the five days that followed. I heard my son cracking up as they played. I'd see him in clothes that didn't match and listen as he was up way past his bedtime. But he was having fun. They were having fun together. It's great.
The part that wasn't great, other than how awful I felt, was that I couldn't hold our son. I couldn't play with him. I couldn't kiss him goodnight, nor could I scoop him up when I heard him cry. My husband was doing a wonderful job (and I think has a whole new appreciation for what my day-to-day consists of) it was just hard not being able to do anything.
I've often thought I should go out of town for a weekend, hell even just for a day, so they could have some guy time. Without my frequent suggestions - a bad habit, I know. And, so that I could fully "clock out" for a day. But, for the love of all that is holy, this is not what I meant!!! He's been Mr. Mom only twice before now. The first time? When we were at hospice with my Dad as he lost his battle with cancer. The second time? As I lay in a hospital bed after my appendicitis.
So when I say the third time is NOT a charm ... I mean it! Perhaps next time I can just go to a spa? Then again, after this fiasco, he may be the one wanting to go to a spa for some (well-deserved) relaxation!
This is an original post to Rocky Mountain Mom's Blog. When Mandi isn't dreaming of going to a spa, she can be found chasing after her son and loving every minute of it!
