Why can't Moms get sick?

I’m sick.  

After boasting about how I rarely get sick here in "I'm torturing my kids", I have now caught a terrible cold with aches, pains, rivers of snot and sore throat.

I blame it all on Ren, who insisted on jumping in our pool this past weekend when it was 60 degrees.  He said he wanted to be the first to jump in, so even though I pointed out that 5 minutes at 55 degrees means death from hypothermia, he was undeterred.  (And yes, we own an inground vinyl swimming pool—why New Englanders would want a swimming pool that can be used 2 ½ months of the year beats me—it came with the house)

When I blame his cold on jumping in the pool, he claims that he already had a stuffy nose, in which case, why would you jump into a 60 degree pool??

This school year we’ve had a run of great health—not one kid has missed a day of school until Tuesday.  Tuesday morning Ren woke us up at 1:38 a.m. because his throat hurt so badly and he couldn’t breathe.  Despite knowing it was only a cold, we let him stay home from school because he was coughing up his guts and sounded horrible. 

Because I don’t want to give any positive reinforcement towards unnecessarily staying home from school, I told him he couldn’t have any screen time if he stayed home.  He could sleep, read or clean his room.  When a kid has a fever or throws up, I let them watch movies all day, but a cold?  Fuggedaboudit!

By Tuesday afternoon, I knew I was succumbing, and now I’ve completely become immersed.  I feel so bad that I actually feel a little guilty for not giving Ren more sympathy.  Of course, after a day home, he’s totally bounced back and just jumped into the pool again (which is now 66 degrees).

I feel so bad I skipped the gym both yesterday and today, wanting to get some extra sleep.  But then both mornings, despite my closed door, each child of mine had to visit at least twice and ask why I was in bed. 

There’s no tolerance for Mama being sick in this household.

Scott says it’s my own fault that I don’t just go to bed all day, that I could make different choices and not worry about everyone else’s needs.  But that’s pretty hard when kids barrage me with questions all day long.

Mama lying in bed all day? 

Fuggedaboutit.