Yep. This is me.
And I’m not even the one who is sick. I have one sick little boy from last week. Not this weekend. Not today. From last week! His stinkin’ fever won’t stay away and I’m spent.
I know, I know. It’s all about me, right? Well, it is. I suck at being a nurse. Truly. You don’t want to get sick with me around.
I’m squeamish. (I’ll take my temperature as soon as I take yours.)
I’m paranoid. (I Clorox and Lysol everything in sight. Three times a day. Really. My house is never cleaner than when someone is ill.)
And I’m impatient. (For you to get well, that is.)
But I have been keeping up with you all. Reading you on my phone – in the carpool line (Because kids don’t get sick at the same time in this house – oh, no. They spread it out over weeks and weeks.) – while cuddling (at a distance – and trust me, this is possible) on the couch watching SpongeBob and Phineas and Ferb – while cooking dinner or hiding in my closet. (Yes. I hide from my kids sometimes. Sue me.)
I’m a bit technologically challenged. So I can’t comment. Just know I’m reading you. And missing being here. And popping herbs like there’s no tomorrow so I don’t catch this crud.
Pray for me. I mean, my son.