Dr. Mom

I am home with a sick boy today.

Well....he is 43 years old...but we all know that when a man gets sick, he becomes a child again.

Dr. Mom has diagnosed him with influenza.

He has bad body aches (the worst ever, he says.) Headache, cough, the whole bit.

He never stays home from work, so he must really be sick.

It is quite the spectacle though.

Why is that?  

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I was thinking about it this morning.  Whenever I get sick, or have a migraine, or think I might be dying, or whatever, I tend to retreat into my own little corner and hide.  I don't feel the need to include anyone else in the last moments of  my agonizing life here on this earth.  

I just curl up into a ball on the bathroom floor (or wherever it is most convenient) and start praying for the angels to take me home.

There have been a couple midnight trips to the ER in which I have silently slipped out of the house and returned, and my darling husband never even knew I left.

Why wake the guy?  There is no reason why we should both lose a night's sleep when there isn't anything he can do for me anyway.

I am a tough gal...I can fend for myself.

Heck, I grew up on a farm.  I could probably birth a few babies in a field if need be.

~

Then....there is my beloved.

Last night at rehearsal, he showed up with a bag of cough drops and two large bottles of gatorade.

I knew something was up.

He looked at me with that pathetic puppy dog "I have some terrible news to share with you" face and said: "I got sick this afternoon."

My reply was "You puked??"

He said "No....I got a headache, and started feeling icky."

OH!  I see. (she nods, and attempts to look concerned.)

The rest of the rehearsal, I heard some sad sounding coughing coming from behind the drum set.

Why do men do that?

(Or at least my man does that.)

He never just hocks up that loogey.

He just sort of gives a weak, "I don't want to hurt myself by coughing to hard" sort of "ah-huh, ah-huh" sound.

Kind of like little three year old boys when they are pretending to be sick.

~

When we arrived home, he looked helplessly in the medicine cabinet and asked "what do I take??!!"

"I took Excederine migraine earlier, and it says not to mix it with this cough syrup! Now what do I do?!"

I shot him a "seriously??!" look, and replied "Take the damn cough syrup."

He got out of bed today around noon, and was obviously still quite incapacitated, because after brushing his teeth, he came out of the bathroom with toothpaste foam lining his mouth, much like a dog with rabies.

(Really?  How do you not know you have toothpaste all over your face??)

Once again...to the medicine cabinet....

"What do I take??!!"  (he speaks so quietly, she can not make out the words....she says "huh?"  Three "huh's" later....she finally understands...because she can read lips fairly well.  Apparently, he is being careful not to hurt his throat by speaking in human tones.)

Obviously, I must have some medical training that I am not aware of, since all pharmaceutical questions are directed toward me.

I suppose, perhaps, the fact that I rival any 85 year old in daily prescriptions, might have something to do with his assumption that I know everything there is to know about drugs?

Anyway....I toss a box of alka-seltzer at him (since it's the only thing that hasn't expired) and go on my way.

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From what I have heard...this flu crap hangs on for several days.

I am trying to figure out how I am going to hang on for several days.

Of course, he would get sick during the busiest week of December for us.

And, our cars are still in the shop.

I am just keeping my fingers crossed that I don't catch the bug.

I take so many damn vitamins and supplements, that it would be like having to bore through a steel door for those germs to invade me!

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I should mention one thing.  I actually do kind of understand why men turn into little boys when sick.

It is really our fault.  "Our" meaning us moms.

I mean, come on....what mom didn't/doesn't baby our little boys like crazy?

I babied my daughter too...but there is just something about a mom and her son.

I still recall several years ago when we lived in the cities.

Mark got really sick, and he had a concert that night.

His mom absolutely freaked out.  She was soooo worried about him, and could hardly contain herself.

It was then that I knew I had a world of trouble on my hands.

This man I had married would FOREVER need a mama each and every time he had the sniffles.

I am sure my son will be exactly the same.

At least I am aware of the monster I am creating.

I may, or may not, inform Sam's future wife of these facts.

I still am unsure about how I feel about another woman taking my sweet baby away from me someday.

Well...that was how I felt a few years ago...when he still thought the sun rose and set around me.

Now, he isn't quite the mama's boy he used to be. (I hate that...I mean, I'm glad he isn't a freshman in high school who can't bear to be separated from his mother.  That would be most unfortunate for him.  I just hate that he didn't stay a 3 year old forever.)

Now that he has gotten a little salty in his teenage years...I am not so set on him living with us forever. ("Salty." this is the new word my kids use all the time. "Salty" and "ratchet". ) I can't stand "ratchet".  That one drives me nuts.  "OMG mom!  That outfit is SOOO ratchet!!"  Change it NOW!"  Yeah, yeah, whatever, you little snobby brats.  "Salty," however, I think is pretty clever.

"Mom, is it okay if we stay at school for an extra hour today to work on a project?  I would ask dad, but he is acting rather salty today, so I'm not sure I want to even bother."

Salty will stay in my vocabulary. :)

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I amaze myself at how I just veer off subject, and into meaningless tangents.

My point in all of this:

*Both of my kids can leave home after high school.

*IF I like the girl Sam decides to wed, I will fill her in on the fact that her beloved will become a toddler each and every time he gets sick.

*If I don't like her...she can fend for herself.

(And I will probably act salty, and scare her away.)

The End.

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Happy Thursday!

xo