Why It Takes a Mom Longer to Get Well

Strep Throat.  I don't think I've had it before.  If I have, it's been a damn long time.  Let me tell you, it's miserable.  It hit me Tuesday morning. It is now Saturday afternoon, and I'm finally, finally feeling better.  My 12 year-old came down with it on Wednesday.  He's up and running today.  It hit my 14 year-old yesterday.  He's already good to go.

Why is it that it's taking me so long to recover?  Could it be because despite the diagnosis, despite the attempted rest, I still had client emails to reply to, spreadsheets to update and budgets to finalize?  Or maybe it's because just when I sat down to rest, my three kids were home, hungry for dinner, bored, out of clean clothes.

Or possibly, it was the fact that one by one they fell sick, like dominoes.  And needed me.  Or rather, I needed to take care of them.  It's what I do.  I've determined that I'd much rather take care of the sick than be the sick.  Who wouldn't?

So, I administered medicine, heated soup, filled cups, checked temperatures.  And attempted to get well myself. A mom can't afford to get sick.  We don't have TIME.

Throughout this week, my 6 year-old daughter has remained (knock wood) healthy.  Which, technically, is a good thing, right?  But, it also meant that she had more energy than the rest of us put together.  She wanted to play, read books, build legos, and on and on.  Is it horrible of me to think that if she just had a touch - the slightest touch - of this Strep, that she might slow down, lie on the couch, take naps like the rest of us?  Horrible, I know.  I'm a terrible mother.  Just awful.

But I digress, we are all on the mend.  I'm feeling human again.  Hell, I've even showered and dried my hair!  Today I am wiping every visible surface with antibacterial clorox wipes, scrubbing the kitchen and baths, washing every sheet, pillow case and blanket in hot water.

I'm still tired.  But, there is a Super Bowl tomorrow, and if anyone is still brave enough to enter through our front door, the least I can do is lose the germs.

A Day in the Life of Matilda OR Um, you've got a thing there...

This is a little story about a friend of mine.  Let's call her Matilda.  Yea, Matilda.  That's her name.

Now Matilda has a full life.  Lately, maybe it's a little too full.  She working full time, she's got a little freelance gig on the side filling in some extra hours, and she's rarely seen sitting down, what with all the kids running around, and that shoe she lives in to keep clean.  How does a busy mom, do it?

Anyway, she's somehow figured out how to keep it all together.  So she wakes up one morning during this crazy week, and checks her calendar.  A meeting at a client's office, followed by two phone interviews and a face-to-face (she's looking to hire some help at the full time job).  She's also volunteered to head up an auction at one child's school and needs to make some related calls, work on a client project, and finish up a company blog post.

A busy day.  But first...what to wear?  Matilda feels good when she looks good - don't we all?  So she goes through the morning routine and chooses a great outfit.  Great skirt, white tailored blouse, tall boots and tops it off with a great new shawl she bought a few weeks ago but hasn't worn yet.

But I digress.  Matilda gets all those kids out the shoe and to their respective schools, and heads to the client's office.  Arrives five minutes early (great start!) and hops out of her car, grabs her briefcase and struts, heels clicking importantly, towards the front door.  She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirrored walls of the building and smiles (not bad!), before throwing the door wide and heading inside.  She's greeted warmly by the receptionist and notices two gentlemen in the lobby, who glance her way.  One of them does a double take, his eyes lingering.  Matilda ignores this, of course, signs in at the front desk and turns to take a seat.
"Excuse me," the man with the eyes says to her.
She stops and turns, smiling.
He gestures with his right hand behind his neck, "you've got a, ah, a thing..." he trails off.
A thing?
"Oh?" she says, unsure.
"Um, a price tag," he explains, tapping his neck again, "um, it's hanging out."

Now, Matilda's self-importance comes to a screeching halt as she reaches behind her neck and feels the tag, with the sale sticker, hanging proudly in full view.
The receptionist smiles and offers scissors.

As it turns out, these two gentlemen are there for the same meeting.  Matilda can't quite remember what she said to them once the tag was removed, but it was, of course, very clever.

As it turns out, this was one of the best moments of this very busy, sometimes difficult, oftentimes stressful week.  For Matilda, that is.

Ever had a moment like Matilda's?  Go ahead...share it, it'll make me, um, I mean her, feel better.