Cough, sniffle, whimper, repeat

The sad truth of life is that moms do not get sick days.

My human Petri dish has infected me with his germs, and I may cough up my left lung soon. Or get kicked out of my bed because my fever is probably burning my husband in his sleep. (Not really…he got me some Ben and Jerry’s last night to try and help my razor-blade throat… he is cool like that)

Sick or not, there is still laundry that needs doing, dinner that needs cooking, dishes that need washing, little boys with school projects and homework that need helping, and a myriad of other tasks that care not for the fact that I feel like death warmed over.

Ya know, this mom thing should come with hazard pay….

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