WTF are "Sick Days"?

It's late. I should be in bed, asleep, waiting on my four a.m. wake up call. Instead I'm here, because I couldn't go another day and leave this pretty little blog empty. The face lift looks pretty good don't you think?

I'm currently recovering from some kind of flu virus. The kind that hurts from your ears to your chest. The kind that makes you want to die every time you swallow. If I was a better person, I wouldn't complain at all. But I'm not, so here I am. I think my biggest complaint is that as a mother, I don't get sick days. Not really. Especially when one or more of your children is sick at the same time, which is totally what has happened over here. And yes, for a bit it totally sucked, and then it was kind of awesome, since we spent all day Saturday on the couch, watching Edward Cullen of all people. I was able to get a little sick time from work, but still had to log some hours Saturday night. It happens I get it, but really, a few sick days would be nice. 

Which brings me to the NyQuil commercial I saw last night. You know the one of the man, who says, "I've got to take a sick day", and then you see who he is talking to and it's his small son in a crib. Then it says something like "Dad's don't get sick days", as the camera shows the Dad peacefully sleeping. Okay, fine. Dad's need sick time too... But wait, immediately following that commercial was a DayQuil spot, of a woman asking for a sick day, then you realize she is asking her toddler aged daughter, then you see her during the day, with her daughter, and it says, "Mom's don't get sick days". I'm sorry, what? Are you telling me that Dad's get to take NyQuil and get a good night's sleep, but Mom's are designated DayQuil to make sure she puts on her big girl pants and can finish her "job", without sleep, or a nap, or even a hot meal? The Hubbs assured me that it was just a spot for cold medicine and that Moms or Dads or both can use NyQuil or DayQuil or whatever the hell they want. But I know. I see you "Ad-Man" I see you bending those gender stereotypes. I want a good night sleep, I deserve a good night's sleep... Or maybe I'm just bitter that I still don't get any sick days...

So as two of us are on the mend, and one of us is in the thick of it, we are slowly making our way towards Thanksgiving day, which is a ridiculous notion, because wasn't last Friday Halloween? I promise my next post will be less ranty, or what my bloggy friend calls, "Bitchy-Bitch".

Mostly I just wanted to write something in this pretty little space from Dream Thinker Designs.

Slowly {thoughts}

Today started slowly. It was a Monday that felt very much like a Sunday. I inched my way to meet the day. Waking and sleeping and then waking again. I worked for most of the weekend and Sunday was a day scheduled to the gills. So today, we slid slowly into the day.

It was a day spent in pajamas. On the couch watching old reruns of our favorite tv shows. We had whatever we wanted for breakfast that was really brunch. I spent the better half of eleven o'clock reading the Sunday paper. For whatever reason, we ignored the calendar because today was our Sunday.

There were a million things I could have done. I could have spent the afternoon writing. The laundry baskets line the path to the laundry room. The dishes are drying on the counter. Clean clothes wait for hangers. But instead, we were too blind to see those things today. Instead we focused on dolls and construction paper chains, and books that we have read a million times. 

I feel like summer will pass us by. So quickly, since it took so long to get here. It's like Summer never really unpacks it's bags. Like it's always waiting for a midnight train or the red eye. Summer is a tease and a flirt and shows us the very best part of itself, right before it breaks our hearts and leaves. It's like the love song that is never long enough, the love story with no specific ending. It gives us just a taste, before it leaves us, always wanting more. 

So it's our only option to spend our days slowly melting into the summer days. Before they are a memory. Letting the clock tick and the dishes sit, and wearing yesterdays clothes because you slept in them. Staying up way too late because the sun isn't ready for the moon's kiss, and because we are never ready to say goodnight to another summer day.

Because before we know it, we will have to say goodbye, goodbye to the sweet surrender of a slow and languid summer day.