The Good Old Days

When I was growing up, being sick was a good gig.  My mom would cluck her tongue and kiss my head and tuck me into bed with either juice or Sprite.  With a straw.  I'd lay in bed and look at the patterns the wood knots made on my ceiling or I'd read and then when it was 10:00, I'd take my pillow and blanket downstairs to the couch and watch The Price is Right.  My mom would check on me and bring me toast.  My dad would tell me, with a conspirator's smile, it was a good thing I stayed home from school so the other kids could have a chance to catch up.

The good old days.

Not so much fun now.

Friday I was sick.  As sick as I've been in a long time.  I didn't teach school.  I didn't plan my next school week like I usually do on Friday.  I didn't clean or cook or launder or anything even close to it.  I don't even remember most of the day.

But I paid for it.

Even though Adam valiantly stepped in as my substitute on Saturday, there were still things that didn't get done.  Because of Friday.  Yesterday was a scramble with school.  We were disorganized.  There was a pile of dirty laundry and a pile of clean laundry.

Being sick as an adult has lost it's charm.

The only thing worse is having sick kids.

Emma was sick yesterday.  That's hard because she's my girl and I hate to see her suffer.  Also, it's quite a production.

I had to call the school to tell them she would be gone and why.

I had to call to get her a Dr. appointment.  My doctor, beloved for every other reason, doesn't work on Monday.  I was told I could get in with another doctor.  I said no.  I don't like that doctor.  I don't like to be that person, the one that frankly says I don't like someone and won't go see them.

But there it is. I don't like him.

I got in with a different doctor.

Then I had to call to cancel the appointment for the afternoon with a dermatologist where Emma was having a suspicious looking mole removed.

Then I had to call and cancel piano lessons.

When did sickness become so much work?

For Emma's part, it's not.  She sipped juice and ice water from straws.  She played Mario Kart and finished the book she'd been reading.  She wandered around in a haze and I gave her kisses.

I didn't mind.

I know she'll do the same for her babies someday.

And then she'll wonder when sickness stopped being so much fun.