For Your Consideration...

Last week I attended my sons' Valentines parties with toddler in tow, even though school parties make me want to drink.  If my kids didn't keep track of these things on some invisible ledger and then judge me with tears filling their huge brown eyes, I'd be happy forgoing them altogether.  Ohboy #2 is especially sensitive to this, and shamed me for a solid week when I accidentally (really!  I swear!) missed his Halloween party.  Ohboy #3 usually gives me grief for overlooking the more obscure school celebrations like "Grandparents/Special Person Day".  When they say "Special Person", apparently that means ME.  It's appropriate, I know.

On Valentine's Day, I dragged myself from one classroom to the other, at the opposite end of the school.  Ohboy #4 happily stomped along with me, and I found myself thankful that he was too big to carry.  I dreaded class parties when he was unsure on his feet and spent most of his time in my arms.  He's never been a small child--he's built more like a linebacker than his refined, aerodynamic siblings.  In the early days I always left functions with my whole body trembling from muscle fatigue and dripping with sweat.  Now that he can walk and throw a mean right hook, it is not quite so bad.

Except...  When my baby is safe in my arms, he can't receive the full force of some kid's hacking cough right in his chubby little face.

Three days later--Sunday morning--he is running a fever and barking like a Sea World performer.  Ohboy #3 follows his lead, spiking a fever soon after.  The next morning Ohboy #2 follows suit.  Luckily, Monday was President's Day, a day already scheduled off from school.  I'm thankful for that built-in recovery time.

Only now it is Wednesday and everyone is still feverish, coughing, and miserable.  And why?  So someone could let their sick child attend a party at school?  So they didn't have to take a day off from work?  But where does that leave my family?

I have health insurance, but it is crappy.  We pay around $80 per office visit because our deductible is, like, a trillion dollars.  To take all three of my younger children in to be cared for, should I need to, I am looking at $240.  Should they need prescriptions of any kind, such as Tamiflu, my out-of-pocket costs would reach nearly $400+.  (And, if we're being technical, my doctor prescribed Tamiflu and when my husband went to pick it up, our insurance was being useless and he would have been required to pay $200 for the prescription for just one child...  He opted not to buy said medicine because we're poor).

Also--what if I was a mother working outside of the home?  I mean, I am, but only when this last birth happens, and then I'm off call for a little while.  But what if I had a 9-5 that I had to take time off to care for my sick kids?  That's a loss of wages for me, as well.  So on top of the expenses for the doctor and the drugs, now I'm not clocking in hours at the job.  And for what?  But because I am a mostly-stay-at-home mother, it must not matter because, heck, I'm home anyway.  Clearly it is not an imposition to me at all to have the plague hit us head-on and then pass through six individuals..... because I stay at home.

And this doesn't even really factor in what my children miss at school--especially Ohboy #2, who struggles more than his younger brother.  I know I'm whining a teensy bit, but, for the love!  This is the fourth round of major illness this winter!  I'm not sure how much more I can take!

All I'm asking is for a little consideration, here.  You and your family are important, but so is mine.  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

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!