Sick Day

I resent being sick. One of the hardest things for me to accept being a mother is that there is no such thing as a sick day. Don't get me wrong I have a fantastic husband who spoils me whenever he gets the chance and tries so hard to lighten my load (especially when I am not feeling good). But the fact of the matter is Mom's don't get sick days. One because we are all convinced that we have to be on our death bed (or pretty close) before we ask for help and two we don't know when to stop.

I woke up Monday morning feeling miserable. I was pretty sure sometime during the night I had sleepwalked into a chemical plant and downed a gallon of battery acid. My throat was swollen shut to the point that I could hardly swallow, my stomach was doing somersaults, and my head was splitting. Did I crawl back in bed and take care of myself? No. I went to Costco because we were down to two diapers and a miserably low on a few other of our bulk items. Did I accept the three offers to let friends watch my kids? No, because I was well enough to walk and drive and make it through the store.

I woke up this morning feeling worse. Did I call any of my friends who had offered several times to take Zo to school and watch Reed? No, because it was her last day of school and I wanted to get pictures. Did I stop and take a nap and let my body recuperate? No, because I had "things" that just needed to get done. I did at least go to the doctor who told me that I have an infection in the lining of my throat but that it wasn't strep. Great, so I'm sick but not nearly sick enough to justify all of this complaining. Every person I met today I complained to. And now I am complaining to you. Geesh.

Why do we not ask for help? Why do we have to be to a certain point before we let someone lighten our load or we give ourselves permission to just be sick? Sorry for the whining but that is what happens when I get sick. Tomorrow will be better (partially because I can already feel the antibiotics kicking in...)