I was working on something telling you why I have been MIA when my son looked over my shoulder at the title and said, “That is wrong. Re-read it.”
The title was “Strep is a four-letter word I hate!” Okay, so strep is technically a FIVE letter word, but the way it has taken up residence in my home, it has become a four letter word. Sick Math: If you take “strep” add 3 [people] divide by 2 then you have a four letter word. So, yes, to me: Strep is a Four Letter Word. First my son brought it home and I trembled in fear. No! I even asked the doctor to put the rest of us on preventative medicine in order to keep the rest of us free of this dreaded invader. I pondered a HazMat suit, but I could not find one at a reasonable rate. I took every precaution short of moving to a hotel or kicking out my son, but none of it worked. By Wednesday, I had chills, a fever, ached everywhere and just wanted a fire hydrant to put out the pain in my throat.
“But I am okay!” was my mantra.
Thursday, Gabrie came home, hit the couch and was out cold. By dinner time her fever had sky-rocketed. Friday morning we dragged our sick, pitiful bodies to the doctor. And, yes, he did get an “I TOLD YOU SO!” glare from me. And that, my friends, is how I spent the last pitiful days.
Of course, being young my daughter is just fine and bouncing around. Me? I am still battling the on again off again fever, chills and “what kind of truck ran me down because I hurt and am too tired to speak” a week later. Getting old sucks.
So, if I have missed an email or two or owe you something, do not hesitate to send me an email. It may have been overlooked in my delirium. Because I tend to not say, “Hey, I am sick with a high fever and need a break.” I pretend I am just fine until I fall on my face.
Speaking of falling on my face, here is a bit of humor for you.
You know how they say cold and flu medicines come in non-drowsy versions? I say YEAH RIGHT. On Thursday I took a DayQuil and tried to work. (Forgive me for any contact you may have had with me. I was not in my right mind.) When it came time to pick up the kids, I went to the school to start the never-ending-always-in-my-van routine. As I walked towards the elementary school, I apparently either forgot that you must step UP when approaching a curb or someone pulled the curb out from under me. Either way, I fell ass over tea kettle flat on my face. When I say flat, I mean FLAT. Sprawled on the ground like road kill. For a moment I pondered whether or not I could have actually popped my right breast. It’s not even like I have implants, but it certainly felt like I popped it. (Not sure how I would explain that one.) And my hands? I forgot how badly it stings to get cement burn on your palms. That is some serious stingage. But the brunt of the fall apparently fell on my knee (and my right boob) because barring the breast poppage, the knee was in the (second) most amount ofagony.
This is why we all learn to walk at an early age. Besides the fact that we would look utterly ridiculous if we were a society of adults who only crawled, there is a much better reason. Falling when you are old and have a much farther way down to the ground HURTS.
And for the record, I don’t think anyone saw. At least, no one rushed to me in that humiliating concerned way to try to pry the Mom Road Kill off of the sidewalk. And no third graders pointed and laughed. At least I have that.
I also have this beauty (nasty after the jump) to show off. Or gain sympathy. Or just a reminder that cold medicine and walking do not mix well.
Since I did not actually pop my boob, you do not get a picture of that one. Sorry. And this is 5 days after the fall!