Pardon my spin on an old Carly Simon classic, but it’s true. I’m too busy to be ill.
Sure, I bowed to the unbearable sinus pressure in my head yesterday and called in sick, but after spending the day curled up under the covers, I still feel as rotten, if not worse.
And it was my wedding anniversary and everything (insert pathetic whine here).
My tax preparer husband, who had taken the day off for the occasion, instead spent it keeping my tea hot and made sure I had tissues-a-plenty.
Today, ready or not, our nutty schedule resumed: spouse at work, son #2 at a very, very important college interview downtown, son #3 at an all-day band competition being held at a high school far, far away, leaving son # 4 to watch son #5 while I took son #2 into the city, swinging by to visit son #1 at college on our way back home.
Got it? Good, because I’m beginning to feel dizzy again.
My couch never looked so good. I wanted to hug it. Instead, as soon as we got home, I collapsed onto it, closed my eyes and fell into a coma-like sleep.
Some time later, I felt the tapping on my shoulder. I opened my eyes just enough to see son #5 squinting at me.
“What?” I mumbled.
“What’s for dinner?” he whispered, so as not to wake me I’m thinking.
“I’m starving.” He lifted his shirt to expose his empty, allegedly rumbling stomach.
He pulled on my arm until I was sitting somewhat upright.
“Beats me. What do you want for dinner?” As soon as the words left my lips, I knew what his reply would be and that the little stinker knew I was not up for an argument.
Here is comes, I thought, trying to remember where I put my cough drops so I wouldn’t sound like Joe Cocker when I give my order at the drive-thru.
|Son #5 (a.k.a. “Boy Genius”)|
“…aybe, we could get a rotisserie chicken and some noodles and Alfredo sauce. And corn.”
I opened both eyes and felt his forehead.
“Oh no, are you getting sick, too?”
“No. I just figured that would be the easiest thing for us to make.”
So grateful I was for having this little man in my life that I told him, if he came with me, we could swing by McD’s on the way back for a treat.
Seeing his reaction – the way he pumped his fist and hissed, “Yes!”, then called up to son #4, telling him to get his shoes and coat on – the thought crossed my mind that I had just been conned, but if I don’t have to cook today, who cares…?