I dropped off the face of the earth there for a second. Whoops! Caught the edge though, so all is well in SquishyLand.
I got sick. And I took on a big new job at the Big One's preschool. And I'm looking for an actual paying job again. (Did I ever mention that the part-time super awesome great paying tutoring gig that I loved got killed? It did. A state educational waiver killed it. And my super awesome great paying job that I loved. Dead. Gone. Damn it.) And also I have two small boys who ALWAYS NEED SOMETHING RIGHT NOW GIVE IT TO ME NOW. So, that stuff kept me busy. I'm back, though. Hi!
So, the getting sick part. That part is lame. Like super lame. Like extra super double lame. Know why? Because parents are not allowed to get sick. More specifically (and sexist-ly), MAMAS are not allowed to get sick. Because there is no rest for the weary mama. There is a little more rest for the weary dada because they usually come down with a man-cold, which can only be survived in the following fashion:
Poor little bunnies.
Anyway, babies and laundry and dishes and meals and toddlers who NEED everything all the time do not stop because you feel like crap. In fact, sometimes they like to ramp it up when you're sick, just to be little assholes.
I'm mostly all better (apart from the periodic disconcerting hack of a 90 year old smoker), but I was sick off and on for a couple of weeks. And it was annoying. I was not dying. I was not in need of a doctor. I was not even sick enough to warrant much of a change in our daily routine. But I was sick. And it was hard.
5 Reasons It Sucks to Be Sick When You're a Parent:
1. Kids don't get "Mama can't __________." Especially two kids under four. They don't even get, "Please be more patient with me" or "Please give me extra time to do stuff" or "Ow." They only know that they still want that damn quesadilla and they want it NOW. Snap to it, MOM. (Hack, hack.)
2. Kids don't have sympathy. At all. At least, little kids my kids' age don't. They have curiosity (Mom? Are you okay? No? Huh. Get me that toy from up there and make me a sammich and scratch my back. NOW). They have observations (Mommy? Do you feel icky? You do? Huh. Make me some noodles). They will have sympathy eventually, of course, but at the ripe old age of three and a half and 21 months, they got nothin'.
3. Kids don't stop. Ever. Like, EVER. They are go, go, go from before sun-up to after sun-down. You can't rest as a parent because there is no pause in the constant motion of kidness in which you can rest. So... you just gotta try to keep up. While feeling like ass. And making a sammich.
4. Getting better requires sleep. Sleep requires that your children sleep. I don't know about yours, but my children don't sleep enough. So I don't sleep enough. The end. Enter 3 week long cold.
5. When you start to feel even slightly the tiniest bit better, it is expected that you catch up on all the stuff you couldn't do because you were hacking and snotty and exhausted. Suddenly your only slightly better self is faced with mountains of dirty dishes and laundry and food that needs to be cooked before it goes bad. Also, errands, phone calls and emails you didn't have the energy to complete. Plus, KIDS! WITH ENERGY! WHO NEED A SAMMICH!
Being sick sucks. Being sick with little kids sucks extra hard. Maybe when they're in elementary school I'll teach them how to make mama some soup and bring me tissue. Or maybe I'll just teach them to play quietly in the other room and leave me alone for a full 30 minutes. That sounds nice.
P.S. Total random sidenote: I'm going to be changing the name of this here blog soon. Squishy will remain, but the reference to the line in the Disney/Pixar film will not. Because I am not that person. And I fear I am misleading the lovely people who adore Finding Nemo, but do not enjoy it when I say fuckballs. I'm caring like that. Also... I'm a tad worried that if more than 10 people start reading this, I might get sued. So, there's that.
P.P.S. Please don't sue me.