This week, I made it to 30,000 words. But barely. Juuuust barely.
Stupid flu shot.
I know these things are pretty controversial. What’s the point of getting a flu shot when the virus keeps mutating to the point that it’s possible that you can catch an even worse variation of the flu, rendering the shot you painfully got useless? But wouldn’t it be nice to be covered just in case you come across the same version of flu you got vaccinated with, and all your family is falling down spewing, and you just laugh, “Ha! Ha! Ha! I’ve been vaccinated, you poor losers! Who needs another Pepto Bismal dosage?”
Well, okay, I wasn’t thinking about that at all when I went to get the shot on Wednesday. My hubby’s job was having a health fair, so we thought it would be good to get some up to date shots, check on our cholesterol and what not. Hey, it’s covered under our insurance. What the heck. I’m pretty sure if I had any side effects, they’ll be pretty slight. So I went and got the shot.
Things were going pretty well until midday. I was running chores with Daniel when suddenly I got that woozy feeling. You know, when you’re standing in place and the whole world decides to tilt 45 degrees to the left. That’s not good, I thought and decided to go home for the day, where I spent the rest of the day vegging on the couch. Bummer considering that I had a nice recipe for spicy lamb soup I had wanted to try.
But it’s okay, I thought in a naive, sickness addled way. Tomorrow I’ll be better. This shouldn’t last long. And on Thursday, I even rose early to write a bit, thinking that I was fine.
Oh, how foolishly wrong I was. I went to get Daniel from his crib, and I could barely lift him, I was aching all over. I turned the heat in the house up, and kept shaking with the chills. I tried to do some housework, but had to lie down every couple of minutes. When I realized it was noon and I was still in my pajamas, I had to concede. These weren’t side effects. This was the freaking flu!
Before Daniel was born, getting sick was like getting a mini-vacation. Sure, I felt awful, but I got a chance to lie around at home with a box of tissues, sleeping all day and watching TV. My favorite was watching kiddie programs, like Calliou and Dragon Tales, pretending that I had a child and that this would be the stuff he or she watched. It was a nice way to escape the office.
But now I’m a stay at home mom. And you know what? Two year olds don’t care if you’re sick or not. They still expect you to play and make their breakfast and change their diaper (wait, what am I saying? Daniel doesn’t care about that at all…) and basically keep to the normal schedule of things. They don’t understand the words, “Mommy’s sick.” Nope. They will jump on you and slap your face to wake you up, and if you don’t respond, they do it again. Harder. There is no escape. None.
Thursday was a very abnormal day for Daniel. All Mommy did is lay on the sofa, groaning. He did get a good deal in that he watched a lot of Elmo, Thomas, HiggleyTown Heros and Teletubbies. He even got to watch stuff that Mommy normally wouldn’t let him watch, like Between the Lions and Bob the Builder. Whatever guilt Mommy felt for letting him watch so much TV was currently dumped in the toilet, along with her lunch. She didn’t yell at him when he played with the family room blinds, or got into the tissue box and pulled tissues; she just stared at him through her Nyquil-induced haze. He was a little upset when she dumped him in his crib a little earlier than usual, though, without the normal taking the nap routine, but he got over it soon enough. At least, I think he got over it. Good thing that Daddy came home early, because Mommy was knocked out for the count that day.
Needless to say, I did not write.
I’m doing a lot better now. I still got a nasty cough, and my throat feels like chewed meat, but the aches and pains are gone and the ground feels solid beneath my feet again. That’s good, because at this very moment, Daniel is coming up the stairs, saying, “Mommy? Mommy! Wharyu doin?” He’s also been extremely loving, wanting to crawl into my lap and giving me hugs every minute. I think, in his own way, he’s trying to say that he really missed me and he’s glad I’m doing better.
I do know one thing. If I ever decide to get another flu shot, I’m going to do it on a Friday so if I get sick, at least it will be over a weekend, when hubby is home. That’s right. I going to plan in advance the next time I get sick. Hey babe, are you doing anything the second weekend of November next year? No? Good. I’m going to schedule my next flu shot for that time…