It's post Thanksgiving and my motivation meter is low. Did I Black Friday shop? Nope. I have caught whatever achy-congested-upper-respiratory thing that's going around. I remember thinking about how being sick has changed from the pre-kid days. And now I'm thinking about how it's changed from the new-motherhood days. I unearthed this vintage blog post below. It's fun to look back with a little extra parenting perspective.

The woe meter is on low and I just have to dig deep and keep on keepin' on. All you can do is the best you can do. And when you're sick, your best is well... some extra lounging, Dora DVD's on heavy rotation, and referee-ing from the couch. But times have changed since Ben was 8 months old like below. It is a little easier now. No diapers to get up and change and no spoon feeding. The kids can empathize (sometimes) AND they can run and get me Kleenex.

____________________________________________________

What to Expect When You're Expectorating

originally posted on September 12th, 2006 - (wow that was a long time ago.)

Last week I went home from work white as sheet with a high temperature. I had the crud. Big time. I have had a very specific "Sick Day" ritual for well over the past three decades. It goes a little like this:

1) Snuggle up under a comforter on the couch.
2) Prop puffy pillow up behind me.
3) Strategically place glass of ginger ale, Kleenex, thermometer, remote control, and a row of Saltines within reach on coffee table next to me..
4) Oh, and a banana popsicle, HAS to be banana.
5) Watch the Price is Right, Bewitched re-runs
6) Maybe a little Vic's vapo-rub on my sternum just for nostalgia and comfort more than results. .
7) Place back of hand on forehead and allow self to wallow just a bit. .


My ritual came to a grinding halt when two little hands appeared on the side of the couch cushion, then a shock of blonde hair, then two big blue eyes.
Like a little mountain climber, baby Ben had conquered the steep precipice of Mt. Davenport, elevation 2 feet. He smiled and blew a raspberry in my face.
I scooped him up and cuddled with him under the comforter then took him to the kitchen to introduce him to some strained peaches. My "woe-is-me" days are over. Luckily my husband was around to run interference for me to take a nap and recuperate.

My question for all of you is "How do you mother (or father), when all you want is to be mothered?"

___________________________________________________________