In my husband's case, this means that technically, his "relief" shift is actually at home, lying on the couch, lost under a drift of used tissues and discarded Benadryl blister packs. The only clue to the Second Shift's true whereabouts has been a sticky, red trail of dried Target Brand NyQuil (in red death flavor) leading to a wheezing lump.
I feel badly about this. Truly I do. I am one of nature's slow healers. A simple cut can take over a month to heal. A mild cold turns in to a raging infection when it meets my immune system and then takes weeks to depart the host body after ravaging it most violently and leaving it for dead.
In this case, I am aware that I should not be able to map my sinus cavities simply by virtue of feeling them trying to burst forth from my face...but I can. To pass the time earlier, I even tried to practice cartography in this fashion but got lost once we reached the alimentary canal.
So, for two days now, I've been up and down (mostly down). When I've been awake, I've had my nose buried in a book or found myself squinting at the interwebz, trying to sort out where to take this...this...this. This, this. Yes. That's it.
What I have not been doing is being a very interactive mommy. Oh, I've changed a diaper here and there, read a book (today that's out as I can't actually speak above a whisper now) or two, snuggled for Tigger and Pooh time and managed to help out with a few meals...
But I know that M isn't feeling well either. And I feel even worse for it. It's bad enough that he's the Day Shift and, too often, the Evening Shift as well, especially if A isn't interested in watching or helping me get dinner together...now he has to do it all around me, knowing I'll be as much help as a wilted toadstool on a damp morning.
It's funny...the Mom-o-Sphere has been abuzz lately with the rekindling of the Mommy Wars, no thanks to Dr. Phil (I'm not providing links it's just too stupid...), but as I watch M herd our daughter to her toddler story time at the library, kick the ball around outside on a cold, cloudy day and as I hear him tell her to leave Mommy alone, she's sleeping (through my drug induced fog), I am reminded of two things:
1. I couldn't pay this man a high enough salary if I had access to unlimited riches.
2. If I have to will myself into recovering faster, I have to. It's just silly to be a snot-nosed, wheezy lump when clearly, extra help and hands is what's really needed around the house.
What about you? How do you deal with kids when one or both parents are sick?