It Strikes Again.

My husband has the flu.  Again.  It's like the third time this winter.

It just hit me that this is his way of getting a day to lie around in bed.  Thirteen years, and it's finally sunk in.  Sure, he'll argue that he would much rather not get sick, but I know the truth.  He's a baby.

When I had the flu nastiness a couple weeks ago, he left me for 10 hours to work.  Working is good, don't get me wrong.  But working on the weekend while four kids are home from school and wreaking havoc while the little lady--me!--is burrowed under layers of blankets trying to ward off the chills... Not so good.  The shining moment of that particular day was having to fight the nausea and dizziness to walk down to the barn to take care of the animals because he forgot to on his way out...  Not my favorite.  And you better believe I am keeping score!  ;-)  

We have a long history of dramatic flu here.  The most vivid was the flu bug of July 2009.  Some guy (who will remain nameless) was up and down all night, illin', and then proceeded to nap in bed the entire next day.  Meanwhile, it was actually THE due date of our fourth Ohboy.  In the middle of early labor contractions, I ran to the grocery store to buy someone else Gatorade, popsicles, and chicken noodle soup, then spent the rest of the day taking care of the kids.  As contractions picked up in the afternoon, I took the boys to the pool to distract all of us.  At 6 p.m., with the clammy husband still lying in state in our bed, I marched in our room and demand he get up and pull himself together.  Our baby was coming, and soon.

It was childbirth.  By default, I won.  His arguments were irrelevant.  There was no way on God's green earth that I was having a baby--in the birth tub in our room or on our bed--with him lying useless under the covers.  If nothing else, by forcing him to sit upright with a cramping, nauseated stomach, I was teaching him empathy.  I'm not above feeling almost happy that he had to go through that with me.  That's right, I'm kind of cruel like that.

Or the flu we all had when Ohboy #3 was a newborn.  My husband left the room in favor of sleeping on the couch.  He thought he was being considerate, but what that really amounted to was my having to get up to change and feed the baby by myself smooshed in between mad dashes to the the restroom.  Yep, still keeping score.

So tonight, as my husband is curled up next to me sleeping it off and I gather up  some extra oomph to get dressed to take care of the animals, I am notching one more point on my side.  We'll never, ever be even, but at least now I know without a doubt that this man--strong as he is--is still a marshmallow..... or a really good actor.

Rest well, Mr. Ohboy, for you will pay tomorrow.  Muahahaha!