I am sick. I don’t know what I have. Could be a bug, could be that the exhaustion of my schedule has caught up to me, could be that I have something else going on that I need to have diagnosed at a Doctor’s office. I don’t really know.
All I know is that I am oh so tired, achy, feverish and on edge… more than normal. I have been falling asleep in the afternoon – I never do that – and worried to even drive the car because I get dizzy and my eyes hurt.
But taking a few hours to take a real nap, one that is not constantly interrupted by kids, truly peaceful and not laden by guilt is hard. I can not even imagine taking a whole day or weekend to feel better. Though I would like to.
I’d like to take my sick, tired self and curl up, under the warm covers of my new master bedding, relish in the beauty of the newly redone room, put on a guilty pleasure show that I can pass in and out of consciousness watching, and not be bothered until I feel the desire to see the light of day again.
But, somewhere in the contract of my mommy agreement that I signed with labor pains and c section scars, is a little talked about truth of motherhood.
We don’t get sick days.
Kids do. Hubsand’s do. But mommies don’t.
Probably mostly because we don’t feel like we can. I want to get up when I hear my child cry, when a scuffle breaks out, and when I hear my husband opening and closing cabinets 20 times looking for something the whining, tired little girls are asking for. And I hate knowing that he has been out mowing the lawn in the Texas heat and then has to come in and deal with the kids.
I suppose I think I am too important around here. Like they can not handle things without me.
But part of it, I think, is that I feel… lazy, somehow for taking the time to heal. I know that makes no sense. I read it too. But I DO!
I have so much to do. The kids need to be bathed. The bathrooms need to be cleaned. There are piles of laundry that make a mountain look like an ant hill. I need to go to the grocery store. The check book needs to be balanced. And on and on. How in the world can I justify laying in a comfortable, warm, beautiful bed just because I feel a little “ick”? I should be able to over come “ick” and take care of my family.
“Ick” will just make me behind. Make me more irritable, less attentive to the kids because I have things to catch up on, and frustrated that I let it get me.
So, maybe mommies do get sick days… by law. But in my mind, taking one just seems plain selfish. And I think that there is an inherent understanding that when I became a mother, I gave up my “selfish” ways.
Right, wrong or stupid… I did.
So, I’ll pull myself up, take a Tylenol, pray the kids go to bed early and sleep late tomorrow. Because I am a mom… and mommies don’t get sick days.
At least I can’t let myself take one…
**Originally published 9/24/2011**