"Mommy's sick"

It would seem every time I get sick, I end up ending my sentences with two words: "Mommy's sick." This serves as half-FYI/half-warning to my child. In other words: "Mommy's not feeling so good, so PLEASE, please, don't throw a tantrum, yank me by the arm or expect me to go chasing after you come bathtime."

In other words, "Mommy's sick" is code word for "behave yourself, PLEASE!"

Every morning, I can be found doing one thing: Starting up the coffee. This morning, however, I chose juice instead. Cold juice. I woke up with my throat burning. I'm still coughing my head off and my head feels like it's on another planet. Everything is moving soooo sloooow. I'm literally having a hard time mentally processing everything going on around me. I have this permanent "huh?" look etched on my face.

When I sat at the computer this morning, I was coughing and hacking up phlegm. Yuck. I need to get some better medicine, I think. I also almost lost myself; my head took a spin and I almost came crashing down on the keyboard. I say "almost" because when I was inches from the keys, I regrouped and softened the drop. Ugh.

Then there was when I was resting my head on the desk, comfortably slouched into my chair. I finally opened my eyes to see my 5-year-old bent over, curiously staring at me with wide eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Mommy's sick," I slurred, coughing. I had already told her this this morning when I went into the kitchen to get her breakfast. And when I had to explain why I kept putting my hand on my head as I looked away.

"Well, why aren't you in bed?" she asked.

"Because I'm a mom, Jennifer. And you can't stay in bed when you're sick if you are a mom."

I don't know if she did this out of compassion or not, or whatever the word is, but she snuggled up on my lap and said, "I'm sick, too, Mommy. Let's both go to bed."

Ah. Sounds like a plan.

At least tomorrow is the weekend.