The last day of school before winter break I had a little cold that lasted for three days. I thought it was allergies, set off from being inside a school. I’m either allergic to the cleaning chemicals or the dirty, recirculated air or memories planted deep in my subconscious. The allergies linger for three days. Whatever. I don’t think anything of it. I’m fine.
Winter break comes and my husband, Skye, gets “the cold” that was, for me, just allergies. Only he’s crabby, coughing, bedridden and asking me to feel his forehead. “Do I have a fever?”
I can’t understand how my little three-day sneezing/sniffling “allergy cold” is having this affect on him. I give him no slack. No sympathy. No can I get you anythings. This is clearly “The Man Cold” and I will not play into the drama.
Finally, on the last day of his cold, in the evening when I am feeling weak, I hear Skye coughing from behind the closed bedroom door where he has been camping out continuously. I ask if I can get him our son’s inhaler and anything else for his cough. I am really thinking of me, because I don’t think I could go through another night with “the cough”.
Miraculously, the next day he is back to his regular self. I can’t believe it. What a wuss, right?
A day or two later, I get “The Man Cold”. I realize Holy S**t! This isn’t the man cold! This is the flu! I try for four days to cough up what feels like a piece of glass or maybe a burr. Perhaps a small Brillo pad. It is lodged in my bronchioles. I can point to exactly where it is and have thought for long hours how I could reach in there with a Q-tip or an Exacto knife and scrape it out since no amount of coughing will wiggle it loose. The thought of it makes me cough.
I feel achey, like I have a fever. Everything hurts. I feel my forehead and it’s not hot. My symptoms are identical to Skye’s.
I can’t even begin to tell you what an a**hole I was to my husband when he was sick or you’ll quit reading my blog forever. If this were Myspace, and I was writing for my 90% lesbian audience, that would increase traffic.
But here, I have a different demographic, so the only part of my a**holery that I will share with you is that I actually asked him if he could stop coughing.
To make my a**holery appear worse, guess what Skye does when I’m sick and in bed coughing throughout the night? Guess!
He asks me if there’s anything he can get me. He takes the kids to school in the morning. He makes breakfast for them, and me, leaving my breakfast under a lid on the counter for when I awake. He asks the kids to tiptoe through the house so I can sleep. He keeps the dog in her crate so she won’t pace outside my bedroom door and wake me up. He takes her for walks before he goes to work so I don’t have to go out in this single digit weather. He brings me meals in bed. Water refills. Ibuprofen. Fresh berries. He gets the kids started on their homework. He does all the laundry. The kitchen is spotless.
And when I say, “Oh, my God. I was such an ass to you when you were sick and you’re being so good to me!” He kisses my forehead and takes my dirty dishes away. I’m an idiot.
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LOL. Your husband sounds awesome. But men DO sometimes exaggerate the illnesses they have (in my husband’s case, this seems to happen especially when there is a good game on that he will get to watch in the bedroom, without being disturbed by a wife and four-year-old). You can’t blame yourself just because the wolf actually showed up and attacked the sheep this time.
I am just one giant guffaw over here.
Aw – that’s so sweet. I wish it could be the same in my house. My guys won’t even wash the dishes for me on Mother’s Day.
Hilarious as always and absolutely dead on…
I have found myself to be seriously in need of an empathy refill. It seems like only yesterday that I was hugging, rocking and reading a story to a small child who had just thrown up all over her bedroom because she refused to admit that she needed to until it was too late to get any kind of receptacle, luckily she had a full size bed, it took that much space. Now if one of the kids gets sick, I just look at them with my mommy loves you eyes and tell them to stay the hell away from me until they’re better.
Hi, My name is Mari and I’m an a**hole
HAHA! Welcome to the club, Mari!! I wish I could say there are 12 Steps but our motto is One A**hole at a Time.
this is why I think you’re so great. anyone who can own up to being an asshole is my kind of girl
remember the boy who cried wolf? it’s because they are such babies when they get the sniffles we can’t tell when they’re REALLY sick. At least I can’t tell with my hubby
If only there were a litmus test. Don’t anyone steal my idea! I’m going to get RICH!
Well, shoot. That totally sucks — a guy who actually looks after you when you’re sick. How the hell do you live with someone like that? It’s more than you should have to bear. Now he’s made you feel all inadequate and mean and everything. I say, divorce him. Do it now before he starts giving you regular pedicures and taking you for romantic weekend getaways and stuff. Bastard.
I am filing now!! Before he gets another opportunity to hold a door for me! He’s just awful. Every woman’s nightmare.
No, you’re just lucky.
He’s baiting you. Just wait.
I sense it, too.
Ha! Loved the post and you are a really lucky woman, even if you are an idiot
Kristin
How did you know I’m a lesbian?
It took my wife a while to figure out that I don’t get sick very often but when I do “Do Not Disturb” is a really good idea. A really really good idea.
It was when you blogged about home renovations, how much you like boobs, and that you and your wife got a toaster oven as a wedding present. Straight couples get crockpots.