Life is not fair. This I know. However, when it's 2:00 in the morning and your kid is screaming her head off in absolute agony because she does NOT do sick at night, I feel like the misery should be shared. When it isn't . . . SO NOT FAIR.
Alexis is like a vampire when she's sick, and not the *sparkle*sparkle* jail-bait type. By day, you'd never know anything is going on. She's chipper and sweet and can't be stopped. When the sun sets, however, she turns into a monster on par with the love child of the Incredible Hulk and Cruella DeVille. She's bringing everybody down with her. By force.
But Mr. Husband can sleep through Cruella Hulk's screams, thrashes, and growls, even when I kinda sorta maybe shove her all up in his business.
(She and I sort of agree on the whole Misery Loves Company concept. She doesn't do miserable alone, and I don't think I should either. So shoot me. PLEASE.)
Friday night I did everything within my power to share the misery, but SOMEONE slept through it all. I don't know how the hell he does that, other than maybe he has an on/off switch and I WANT ONE GIMME GIMME GIMME. As Friday turned to Saturday, Alexis didn't much improve in her sicky ways, but she did morph into The Good Sick as the sun rose over the land.
We spent Saturday snuggling, me secretly cursing He Who Deserved that Kick to the Shins I Gave Him at about 4:00am. While I would have liked to have gotten some yard work done before it turned Way Hot, I was OK with hanging out with the cuddly little beast as we watched movie after movie.
Until she started puking.
On me.
I let her have a drink of water and she thanked me by hurling it all over my clothes.
Twice.
SO. NOT. FAIR.
As they day went on, I managed to change clothes four times thanks to the sweet little puke monster that was attached to my side. The last wardrobe change came just in time for me to head out for the Pirates game. We had originally planned to attend as a family, but since recent Pirates performances have made even well people barf all over PNC Park, we figured Alexis was best left at home. Mr. Husband was a rock star for volunteering for Sick Kid Duty while I went out and had fun. But, let's face it, he *SO* totally had earned his way into a few hours of solo parenting.
During the game, I texted him a few times to see how the kid was doing.
First, she took a nap. I was stunned as I had spent hours trying to get her to do exactly that.
But, whatever.
After the nap came word that she had asked to eat something. Surely, I thought, the time had come for Mr. Husband to get a little taste of the puke monster medicine. When he said he had given her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some milk? I very nearly fell over laughing. I'm a big fan of gateway foods when Alexis is sick, and peanut butter and jelly and milk are waaaaaaay far away from the foods I let her start out trying. I mean, he skipped crackers and plain bread and water and, well, really I only ever let her eat crackers because I'm evil like that.
NOTHING HAPPENED.
Apparently magical unicorns and leprechauns and the Well-Kid Fairy visited during that nap because Alexis recovered just in time to have a pleasant evening home alone with her dad.
SO. NOT. FAIR.
I'm going to figure out a way to teach that kid how to share her sick misery with EVERYBODY and not just me. Eventually.
