We've been a sick house for the last week, and no one was safe. And this time it was bad, the worst we've ever been through as a family.
We've all heard the stories from fellow parents, co-workers, and friends. The one that starts with, "One time everyone was sick, and I was standing around in my underwear cleaning up (fill in yucky mess here)."
I had plenty of those moments this week, and you're in luck, cause I really, really want to whine about them right now.
Because there's a simple rule when the family gets sick, and it's the same rule that applies the other 51 weeks of the year: Mommy is the caretaker.
It doesn't help that my husband's under a work crunch and has two cases due in court.
Now, I could detail the agonies of the last week with late nights, early mornings, a sudden deluge of laundry, and a water heater that chose a choice moment to die. Or I could get down to my point:
I'm a big believer the idea women need to find time to offer themselves the same care they offer others. But sometimes, you need to get others to take care of you.
You can bet that's factoring into my weekend plans right now.