I feel like I’ve spent the past week in a sort of sober-drunken sick stupor. The whole house has been crashed out with colds, flus, headaches, fevers. Until yesterday I hadn’t left the house in 6 days.
“Argh… I have no pants.” My laid out husband is in a cold sweat and drowsy in bed as I tirade around the room. “For two weeks, I’ve had no pants. Nothing. Only these disgusting jogging pants – ack.”
He tried hard to open his eyes and at least acknowledge me.
“I’m so sick of this house! I feel like I’m in jail… seriously. Could it be any worse? Must be nice to be able to just lay there and ‘get better’. You went to work while I felt like that. How do you think that felt? Honestly! I had to be up and running around after three kids and the dog when I was that sick.”
He’s barely able to respond.
“Argh… never mind.” I storm out of the room with my ugly track pants under my arm and whine to myself that ‘this sucks’ as I trudge down the stairs to three coughing children on the couch.
“Mama, I need more water.”
“Mama, my head is hot again…”
“Mama, Alex is touching me.”
Mama… Mama…. Mama…. for an entire feverish week, Mama.
I heave a sigh and keep on pushing through the day. My Mom always said it, “this too shall pass”. But when everyone is sick, I GET GRUMPY. And when my huspand couples over and checks out, I take it out on him. There. I said it.
Everything I know about living in the moment – of soaking up life one minute at a time, gets flushed down the toilet with all that dirty Kleenex.
When our household has the flu, I forget to be thankful. I forget to bow low and thank Jesus that we are all still awake. Still here. Hearts beating. Little mouths eating. Smooth rosy cheeks smiling slightly. Little eyes looking to me to care for them. Looking to me. No one else, me. Yep, their upset, overwhelmed, sick-too Mom. That’s me. Sorry kids.
But today, in this 8th day of sickness around these parts, I’ve resolved to wake up from my immature, grouchy stumbling and be awake to the beauty around me. The snuggles, the softness, the storytime, this sleepy house, warm and safe. To all the gifts we have been given – cozy beds, tea, juice, soup, music, books, wholesome movies, medicine. Water. Fresh, clean water.
And I write this as a friend in Uganda makes the long trek to purchase a water filtration system for his humble home. A system that will hopefully keep his children healthy and away from death’s grip this time around.
I’m selfish. I’m petty. I’m so not ‘there’. But I’m learning.
To awaken to this family I’ve been been given – in sickness and in health.
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