March-ing On
Technically it will be March by the time everybody reads this.
While I was sick last week, I fantasized about the treatment I got from my mother when I was a sick kid. She made me toast with peanut butter and jelly and my favorite foods. In fact, she took such great care of me when I was sick, it is a mystery to me why I didn't inherit her "taking care of sick kids" gene.
A light bulb came on over my head. We don't need spas to pamper people when they are well. We need spas to pamper people when they are sick!
Imagine a set up with an adjustable bed, a private bathroom, and a "mom" at your beck and call. There would be a TV across from the bed with full cable hook-ups and a pile of all the recent best-sellling novels on a table next to the bed.
The bathroom would have an enormous bathtub, big enough for three people. (That way, I could fit in it!)
All you would have to do is lay in bed all day. Your "mom" would bring you your medicine on time, check your temp and procure all requested foods you crave, no matter how loony they sound.
The "mom" would cover you with blankets when you were cold and turn on a fan when you were hot. Maybe she could even say a few times sympathetically, "Oh you poor thing."
If you ended up needing a doctor, one would come to your bedside.
While you were recuperating, a professional nanny would entertain your children during the day. They could be in a bedroom next to you at night, within earshot, in case they woke up.
If they did wake up, your "mom" could go in and soothe them.
Boy, would that be an expensive spa experience. Probably this is how rich people do it when they get sick anyway. The rest of us have to deal with kids, sleepless nights, and an Everest-sized pile of laundry.
********************
The birthday boy fell asleep tonight at five again. He missed his dinner and his cake. We didn't cut the cake, but we did eat dinner. I made SJ a plate to heat later.
We had chicken nuggets, coconut rice and corn. The coconut rice is from a recipe Bearette gave me. My husband loves it. He had thirds.
********************
I believe my digital camera has died. It was a good camera and we shall give it a proper burial.
It is time to go plop my rump down on the couch for the evening. Thank goodness.
While I was sick last week, I fantasized about the treatment I got from my mother when I was a sick kid. She made me toast with peanut butter and jelly and my favorite foods. In fact, she took such great care of me when I was sick, it is a mystery to me why I didn't inherit her "taking care of sick kids" gene.
A light bulb came on over my head. We don't need spas to pamper people when they are well. We need spas to pamper people when they are sick!
Imagine a set up with an adjustable bed, a private bathroom, and a "mom" at your beck and call. There would be a TV across from the bed with full cable hook-ups and a pile of all the recent best-sellling novels on a table next to the bed.
The bathroom would have an enormous bathtub, big enough for three people. (That way, I could fit in it!)
All you would have to do is lay in bed all day. Your "mom" would bring you your medicine on time, check your temp and procure all requested foods you crave, no matter how loony they sound.
The "mom" would cover you with blankets when you were cold and turn on a fan when you were hot. Maybe she could even say a few times sympathetically, "Oh you poor thing."
If you ended up needing a doctor, one would come to your bedside.
While you were recuperating, a professional nanny would entertain your children during the day. They could be in a bedroom next to you at night, within earshot, in case they woke up.
If they did wake up, your "mom" could go in and soothe them.
Boy, would that be an expensive spa experience. Probably this is how rich people do it when they get sick anyway. The rest of us have to deal with kids, sleepless nights, and an Everest-sized pile of laundry.
********************
The birthday boy fell asleep tonight at five again. He missed his dinner and his cake. We didn't cut the cake, but we did eat dinner. I made SJ a plate to heat later.
We had chicken nuggets, coconut rice and corn. The coconut rice is from a recipe Bearette gave me. My husband loves it. He had thirds.
********************
I believe my digital camera has died. It was a good camera and we shall give it a proper burial.
It is time to go plop my rump down on the couch for the evening. Thank goodness.
posted by Caro at 8:20 PM
9 Comments:
so he loves the coconut rice, but not the accompanying tofu.
it all makes sense to me now :)
Hello, Hello! Glad to hear your feeling better. 1/2 the lead actors in the play I'm SM'ing are coming down with things!
We should get together and come up with a cure.. we'd make ...billions and billions!
sign me up for that spa experience. add to it only "mom's" cool palm on the forehead, feeling for fever. and changing sheets. ahhhhhh....
esp. since H and I had a fight this morning partly about me "always being sick."
Always being sick?
It's not like you could help it! I am the same way.
Glad I gave you one good memory. Even though I always worried so much when you were sick, I loved taking care of you.
I forgot to add a big box of Puffs Plus next to the bed. They are the best tissues ever.
Bablebabe - How can you get in trouble for being sick?
I want your mom to take care of me when I am sick.
Plop down on the couch? What the hell happened to the hot tub?
Picture below of 3 yr old is dynamite. Super handsome boy.
I must confess..that I do not get sick as much...but as soon as I feel a light cold..as light and silly as it may be...I totally play the role..and act reeeaaaaaaaallly sick...so my mom can totally take care of Miss C and pamper me..until I get tired of soup and get better instantly...
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