Sick of taking care of the sick

Taking care of sick kids while you yourself are sick is especially fun. Gone are the days of resting all day, getting up only to get some nyquil cold medicine and get some chicken broth. Even on those days when you have a high fever, crazy ass scarlet fever throat, and paralyzing muscle aches, you still take the backseat to them.
7am comes and they don't care that every body part of yours is on fire and that you only found the escape that only comes in dreams at 3am. All they know is they are awake, their diapers are full of pee and poo, and they want to get up NOW. So you change them and notice that while you certainly have a fever, one of your babies is curiously hotter to the touch than you. This doesn't bode well. You stick that thermometer up the butt. Surprise, surprise, they have what you have.
Yes, there was that tell-tale cough last night that you tried to ignore after 3am while you squeezed in some sleep. And sure the runny nose has been turned to the on position for a few days. But now a fever? And is that green discharge coming out of the eye?
Shit. This can't wait till you are better. Your babies are your responsibility. When they get sick its up to you to get them better, no matter what you feel like.
So you bundle everyone up and get out the door. Its 8am, and if you leave now, you can beat some of the rush hour traffic and be the first person in line at the doctor's office.
Crap, you realize half way there that there are no tissues in the car, and you are dripping. You rub your nose on your sleeve, since it doesn't really matter anyway. The days when being proud of your wardrobe and appearence are over.
To your dismay, when you get to the doctor, there are 3 people in front of you. You let your kids loose in the play area, even though you know that they will probably catch some swine flu or croup or something. The other mothers give you a dirty look because they are the type of mothers that actually love their babies enough to protect them from those disgusting germ infested toys. You cough in their general direction.
Finally you are seen - a doctor's assistant confirms that its pink eye and strep throat. The good news is only one of your kids is sick and the other seems healthy - for now.
You wish they would just give you double the dose so you are ready for kid #2 when the time comes. But that would be unethical.
After a 30 minute drive to the pharmacy, you find out they are backlogged and cannot get to your prescription for an hour. You drive around aimlessly, still with no tissues in your car and counting the hours till your own bedtime.
The days never seemed so long till now.
Finally, you get your 'scripts and get home. One kid goes down to nap. The other is cranky but not going to sleep anytime soon. Your husband is sound asleep because he has to go to work tonight. Damn nightshift. He refuses to ask for a dayshift because he "works better at night." Good for him.
While sleeping beauty gets his rest, you clean the disgusting mess that has taken over the house, make mac and cheese for the awake child, and throw in some soup for yourself. By this time you just want to shoot yourself, but instead you put on Noggin and let the kid fry their braincells while you curl up with a blanket on the couch. The chills go deep into your bones and you don't think you will ever be warm again.
Shit. No really. The smell of crap overwhelms you. Since your nasel pasages are infected and dripping with virus, the smell must be very strong to be sensed by you.
Up you go. Diaper time. But you aren't quick enough. Your toddler has taken off their own diaper. Poo is now all over the floor.
Cleanup is a joy. Toddler needed a bath. Being splashed while running a fever is torture.
Toddler is calm and ready for a nap. You put them down, go back to the couch hoping to grab just 10 lousy minutes of rest, but then the other baby wakes up. You administer medicine, and set them free to destroy the house, since the thousands of toys that clutter your living room clearly are not as interesting as your carefully organized file cabinet.
Hubby finally wakes up and goes straight for the computer to check his email. He doesn't like to talk when he first wakes up. He likes to being his day (its 4pm) calmly without too much distraction.
You tell him you are sick and need a nap. He says he does too. He apparently thinks he might be coming down with a little cold. He's thinking of getting another half hour of sleep in before work. Otherwise, it'll be too difficult to make it through his shift.
Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. 7pm rolls in like a knight in shining armor. Babies go to sleep. You curl up on the couch with House reruns and start empathizing with the sick patients. You wonder what the symptoms are of all of those weird illnesses. And somehow, you end up staying up way too late instead of getting the sleep you so desperately need.
Tomorrow's another day. Maybe the kids will be healthier. Maybe you will feel better too.
Either way, you are relatively sure that hubby will be too sick to get up at all and will need to get a good 12 hours of sleep (straight through) until he is better.
Yeah.
This is AngryHousemom.