Just a quick message from the land of the sick. Yes, it's fun in Wisconsin's winter wonderland and we are quickly stamping our passports full of every exotic bug known to humankind.
My son has a cold. I have some sort of dry cough/irritation and am feeling draggy, and my husband does "not" have the flu. He just felt nauseous this morning (he, as opposed to me, NEVER gets nauseated, and NEVER, I repeat NEVER throws up. ) and is currently cocooned in bed with a bevy of symptoms including headache, aches, shivers... in short, "not" the flu.
The son of two doctors, my husband never went to the doctor as a kid. Bust your head open? Come here kid, let daddy sew it up. No need for a doctor.
The funny thing is, when I woke up two mornings ago with this dry cough and he was annoyed because I asked him to get up with the child (who has been rising at 6:30 instead of 7:30 in this house of sleepers), he snipped, "Well if you're sick, go to the doctor. Otherwise get up."
This is not meant to be critical of him (lord knows I say some pretty outrageous things either to garner more sleep or in protestation of not enough sleep). It's just funny that he who never goes to the doctor is telling me to go.
So off I go downstairs to crack open a can of chicken soup. I had delusions earlier that I would make my famous matzoh ball soup, but I realized: Oh, wait a minute. I'm sick, too. And tomorrow is another day of (perhaps) sick toddler (who still has more energy than ten of me combined) and possibly the "not" sick husband.
Gesundheit. That wasn't a sneeze.