You know you’re a sick-o when…

You know you’re sick when…

You’ve emptied 5 Kleenex boxes in 2 days.

Your daily Y workouts are no more. Previous squats and lunges are replaced by bringing laundry up and down stairs or using the toilet. You begin to wonder how many calories are expelled while coughing up and sneezing out phlegm.

You’ve played every game in the closet and lost 7 out of 8. Or worse but you’ve lost count. (See Elam line up his winnings below.)

You attempt to place a thermometer in your son’s mouth at 4:00 am and it shoots to 104 in 10 seconds.

You consider making your husband who is in Chicago drive home at 4:01am and it’s your second night of little to no sleep nor have you napped. It seems rational at the time.

Your kid with 104 wants you to play with him, tells you it’s your turn and then rips off his shirt all while keeping his eyes closed and trying to crawl deeper under your sheets. The sheets you just washed earlier that day to get your exercise on the stairs…

You attempt to make your kid take medicine at 4:03am and you achieve epic teamwork to spill the orange sticky stuff (of course the dye free stuff was what he had had at 7:00 pm and so you chose the opposite) all over the kid, the pillowcase which had been clean and crisp mere moments ago from laundry exercise day ooh, and the duvet.

So you rip the soiled bedding and head for the basement. At 4:05am you text your spouse secretly hoping it wakes him up and he gallantly offers to drive home.

Popsicles are appropriate breakfast food choices.

Have a thermometer for each sick-o. And an extra in case the little guys spikes one. Thankfully he just sweats easily and gets hot after tantrums…

You have zero appetite and even the chips aren’t disappearing.

That ENORMOUS anti-bac hand gel you’ve had since you got pregnant in 2007 is finally.almost.gone. Years on the diaper changer, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, on the table… Maybe this has been the source all along?!

You keep anti-bac hand gel in your pocket.

You let your kid to dangerous tricks on your exercise ball. Thankfully Elam didn’t lose any teeth today.

You start to wonder if there is a evil, green-wing conspiracy for you to be sick, be forced to invest in Essential Oils and jump on the Conservative Christian Women’s Bandwagon.

Your sleeve is wet with snot and you’re 38.

You nap at 10:00am and you’re 38.

Your husband gets bumped to a flight bringing him home 12 hrs later (making it 3 mornings of crazy with 2/4 Askers sick and needing to sleep in) and it makes you cry.

No bra, no deoderant for at least 2 days.

You call your neighbor to take your well kid to school :15 before she should leave…

You’ve watched the same Sesame St episode 3 times. And don’t care.

He has coughed so hard his eyes are bloodshot (Elam) or almost pooped and you’re 38.

Normally you watch 2-3 hrs of TV a week. Now it’s 2-3 hrs 2-3 times a day.

However you also have read The Hobbit and most of The Fellowship of the Ring in less than 7 days.

Tossing dirty Kleenex in the garbage becomes a game. I’m 4-20. Not good at this game. Yet. Give me time. The tissues are never the same shape or weight.

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You’ve showered once since being at the Y to workout on Tuesday. It’s Saturday night. Good thing your husband isn’t home…

That’s once in 5 days. I need to start to work out again.

You and your 5-yr old bond over spitting lugies coughed up. “Nice job” you say to each other.

You haven’t blogged in days because your head, thighs and memory are all in the same flabby, murky out of shape shape.

You finally do blog just to do something different but have to on your iPhone bc your hubs had the iPad with the other healthy kids in Minneapolis. But you can’t get the pics just right…

Thank God for football, PBS kids, cold weather, Calista’s health and friends who text me and touch base!
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