I turned to my husband tonight and said, “Well, we’re back on the treadmill.” He had this terrified look on his face, apparently he thought I meant literally, that I wanted to get on the treadmill and work out, with him. I meant figuratively, because today my husband went back to work after having 2 weeks off and my son went back to Preschool and therapy was restarted after almost 3 weeks off due to illness.
It seems like mere moments ago when on December 23rd I said how grateful I was that we were going to be forced to take a few days off due to the approaching holiday. Then WHAM! the holidays were over and I had a sick child and then a sick husband and then a sick child again. Talk about being forced off the treadmill. I felt like a bear coming out of hibernation today as we returned to the real world.
As everybody got better the last few days it seems like everyone has been asking me – How do YOU feel? Honestly, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. I had a pediatrition very politely explain to me that I probably had the flu too and that this could be why I was crying over my son having a fever of over 103 degrees on and off for over 2 weeks. He might have been a little right, but who would know.
I’m a mom, a working mom. A mom who works, from home. There are no days off, no sick days and no vacation. I didn’t say no vacation pay – I said no vacation. When my husband got the chills, I tucked him into fresh sheets surrounded him with quilts, forced tylenol and chicken soup down his throat and alternated hot chocolate and iced ginger ale depending on how his stomach felt. When my son had the chills I sat up and held him and rocked him – for DAYS. When I had the chills – I did laundry. When I had aches and pains – I edited.
And now the vacation – admittedly my husband’s vacation sucked – is over. My hubby is back at work, my son is back at school. I have work to catch up on, gluten free pizza to make and laundry to do. But I realized through all of it today, the treadmill isn’t so bad – at least you know what to expect from the threadmill. And with the treadmill if I run fast enough I occasionally get ten minutes to myself. A thing devoutly to be wished.