I'm happy to say that after a week of being sick, Bill seems to be feeling much better. But it was a rough go while it lasted... for me. Because while my poor sweet hubbie was reduced to a napping mess of blechy I had to hold down the fort- during my vacation.
It all started Christmas day. The day is usually a blur of excitement and work. I try to focus on the joyousness but we're on such a timed schedule throughout the day that it's a challenge- from opening presents to eating breakfast to putting together gifts followed by making, serving, eating & cleaning up after a big dinner! So when Bill started to wilt at about 4 pm I gave him a pitiful face and said I hoped he felt better. And at 5 he told me he was starting to think he actually caught whatever it was that Joshy was sick from, I started to get a bit more concerned. And at 6 pm when there was a flurry of setting the table, finishing up the dinner and rounding up the family I barked the most sympathetic thing I could come up with... "Power through it!" Because if he had fallen down at that moment, I'm just not sure what I would have done. I might have just given up too, I think. So maybe it wasn't exactly in the spirit of the holiday. The spirit of the holiday would have meant I would tell him to go put his feet up by the fire while the children brought him cups of tea (wait, that's not right either). Seriously though, who else was going to carve the turkey?
Isn't that what teamwork is? Not deserting your teammate in her holiday time of need? Okay, so many would argue that teamwork is actually being able to compensate for your teammate if he gets very sick just minutes prior to serving a big family its holiday dinner. Whatever.
During dinner I was quite certain Bill was actually sick because he barely touched his meal. Bill lives for turkey, mashpo and cranberry sauce (only if it's fresh out of the can... with the ridges). I knew it and I felt quite bad about it... so bad that I ate an extra piece of that fine apple hickory smoked turkey he had spent so long grilling all day. Mmmm.... And after the meal I was very supportive of his need to nap. While my mother-in-law cleared the table and father-in-law loaded the first of many loads of dishes I started to clean up the downstairs. I'm glad I did too because I found pepperoni under a couch cushion and what must have been 6 crackers stepped on in the family room.
I maintained my supportive wife role for quite some time, in the holiday spirit. It was a full 12 hours before I cracked again. While Bill was hanging with sick Josh the next morning, I may have barked, "I JUST NEED YOUR HELP OR I'M GOING TO CRY." And considering the state of my house, this was almost expected of me. I visualized myself doing dishes for my entire Christmas vacation. I think we seriously dirtied every dish in the house- plastic and Pfaltzgraph. So I was a little beside myself.
And throughout the week it continued with no signs of getting better. Day after day Bill had no appetite and symptoms of ickiness. Let's not forget that Joshua was showing no signs of getting better either. So I was constantly changing heinous diapers. Each one was worse than the one before it. And to make matters worse, with so many bad diapers he had a horrible rash too so he was writhing in pain. Writhing... with a horribly poopy diaper (gloppy actually). As you can imagine, I did quite a bit of laundry during this bout of illness. Of course, there was also all of the cooking. It probably would have been a little ridiculous of me to expect a sick Bill to cook for Liam and I while he ate only toast. So instead I cooked and had to argue with Liam about my meal choices, "You DO like Beefaroni!"
By Thursday I was really looking forward to a break. Both boys were set up for the day at daycare. My plan was to tackle schoolwork. It didn't go as planned. First of all, I ended up bringing Liam to daycare which took time out of my day-for-myself-schedule. Meanwhile, Bill took Josh to the doctor- after which we decided that it would be best to keep him home. Argh. There went my day to myself, even if it was just a day slated for work.
So naturally I vented to the only person available. The person who was still pitifully sick himself. The person who I was mad at- but not really mad "at". I threw a temper tantrum like a little baby. And soon after, my actual little baby took his three and a half hour nap; and I worked on my schoolwork.
Just like that, all of that "good wife capital" I had earned throughout the week caring for a sick husband and son was spent and gone. Gone. Just for the record, I told Bill that if I am ever again in labor and he tells me to "Power through it", I do reserve the right for my future self to kick him out of the room.
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