This is my week with T. Wednesday I was suddenly struck cold, right through to the bone. I even pulled the heater out at work when I was covering my second’s break because I was so cold. Went home, slept, went and picked up K and came home to T. In the evening it wasn’t so bad. But it hit hard over night. I awoke drenched in sweat my hair could almost be wrung out. Gross right? Well I felt worse.
I called in. Something that I had promised myself the last time that I was going to avoid doing for the next six months. I moved and my head throbbed, my eyes squinting because the light was too bright. I had blinds closed, glasses off and it was painful. My hips, my legs, my back ached. I slept almost all day. I did not take T to soccer. Ordered him pizza for supper because I could not move to cook. I have never felt so helpless and useless a mother as at this point.
T tucked me in and gave me his stuffed puppy to cuddle with. Along with his blanket. His dad knew I was ill so he picked him up and off to soccer they went. Home at 8:30 I tell him his bedtime is 9:30 and I am trusting him. He was in bed at 9:30. Friday a.m. I woke up again covered in sweat and my sleep had been so disjointed but I had to go to work. I groused and groaned and snivelled and groused some more, but off we went.
I am glad that I went in. I pushed through my day and as I did I began to feel so much better. By the end of my shift I was no longer forcing my smile or my laughter. Not cured mind you as my head was still throbbing. I made T clean up the floor because it hurt to bend over and pick up the mess on the floor. Hint 2 I was feeling better: the mess that had accumulated in two days of being ill, was annoying me.
Woke up this morning feeling good. Wee headache but livable. Only to discover that T puked in the middle of the night. He also had a wee accident. And he was cold.
It is Summer in the City in our city this weekend. He had to go. ‘Mom I am fine.’
I caved. He pushed through it. I am going to say this kid has way more stamina than I do. I do believe he is built like his chichi and refuses to allow illness to deny or keep him from anything.
As we are walking home, holding hands, I know yet again my guy isn’t feeling very good. Because what healthy 8 year old boy wants to be seen holding his mother’s hand as they walk down the street? He is also complaining that his legs are aching. ‘Mom when we get home I just want to lay down on your couch.’
As I am sitting at the computer T is laying on the couch. He has not eaten yet, another indication of illness. I look over and use the bribe food: ‘Hey if I make mac and cheese you gonna have some?’ ‘Sure mom.’
Okay, and he is warming up. Maybe he is like chichi and not his wimpy mommy when it comes to sickness.
I start making the mac and cheese and he is patiently waiting. I am playing on the computer, minding my own business, eye on the timer when all of a sudden……pooot poooooot poooot pppppoooooot ppppppppppoooooooooot.
I look over at T with wide eyes and say what was that? Like I don’t know.
T stares at me I think in slight suprise. And than I am guessing that the smell hit him. His face twitched, he gasped and said ‘I didn’t know I could smell like this mom!’
And I laughed as I got up to stir the noodles and said ‘and you can’t even get away from it.’
****T did attempt to get me to smell said disgusting fart by insisting he required a kiss. I held my breath until far enough away.