Ever since I was 9 or 10, I’ve had the crappy family sinuses. The ones that clog and ache when the weather changes. Thanks, Mom.
When I was in my teens and early 20s, I used to get the worst of it every other year. I once had to give a presentation with laryngitis when I was in college. I got a B, so it was all for the best. Now, two kids later, I’m on my third infection.
I was sick when I was pregnant with A2, and then shortly after she was born. I have videos on my phone with my raspy voice. My husband loves to imitate it. He does that awful grandma impression, like a bad imitation of the “Where’s the beef?” lady. Cue eyeroll.
One of my college friends called me tonight to talk. She was surprised to discover I sounded like walking death. I had Daddy J take over kid duty so I could lay down. I ended up app surfing on CNN and Facebook. She called, and told me to get some rest. I wish I could, and I wish my mind would let me.
As a working mom, I hardly cared when I was sick. It sucked, but I powered through, because that’s what I felt I should do. As a SAHM, I feel like there is no break, and that’s part of my job. When the kids sleep, I sleep, unless there is work to be done along the way. I feel like falling over, but I have a to-do list. We still need groceries. I still must tote the kids anyway. I will carry that double stroller, which is the equivalent of what childless people must bench press. I still cook meals, unless I feel so shitty I cannot function. Then, I defer to Daddy J.