So many things enter your life with parenthood. Love, tenderness and pride. Fear and worry. Responsibility and fatigue. Many you are prepared for, and some you are not. You get through them all. Sometimes with grace. Sometimes not so much.
And then there's the illness. The neverending illness. I do not exaggerate. I'm pretty sure that we have not gone more than one to two weeks since October with everyone in this household being well. I personally have not gone more than a week and a half since January without being sick. I had heard that having children in daycare often involves them bringing home bugs, but this is getting ridiculous. They are only there two mornings a week.
Last night my husband entertained the children while simultaneously getting a quote to replace our rotting deck, played with the children in the yard, and then fed them dinner. All by himself. I spent 2 and 1/2 hours at my doctor's office walk-in clinic and then waiting for my prescriptions at Walgreens. Diagnosis this time: Bronchitis.
Someone tell me this ends. Please. Tell me that I am not going to spend three out of every four weeks for the next 16 years sick.
Now I'm off to drink more hot tea and to try not to cough too much.