So, the very first Monday of the Christmas break, the first day I would be at home alone with all 4 kids, the day I planned to take the kids to see Santa at the mall and bake shortbread with them, that day... I was sick.
I’m not talking sniffles sick, I’m talking my daughter brought me the bowl we affectionately call the puke bucket, and although I told her mommy wouldn’t need it because I would be able to make it to the bathroom, I was wrong. I couldn’t get out of bed.
I was so sick, I had to call my mother to watch my kids... at my house... while I slept. The kind of sick that mothers aren’t allowed to be because we have too much to do.
Okay, I think you get it now, I was sick.
Because I was sick, I decided the baby needed to sleep in bed with me so I wouldn’t have to get up in the night. She actually doesn’t get up much any more, just needs a soother put in her mouth sometimes, but if you read the beginning of this blog, you know I wasn’t in any shape to get up and do that for her. So, she came to bed with me.
I puked for three days, then I got a hacking cough that actually made me feel like my shoulder was dislocating every time I coughed. The kind of cough that your post pregnancy bladder can’t handle. I was exhausted from the back to back sicknesses, so I kept Siobhan in bed with me. Then Siobhan got a cough, and her breathing was all raspy, so I obviously had to keep her in bed with me.
Yeah, the kids have been back in school for almost a week, and Siobhan is still sleeping with me.
I’m screwed.
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