As much as I want to be more than mommy, sometimes all there is to me is Mommy. And that’s okay, because that’s a huge part of who I am. When the kiddos are sick, when The Husband is sick, I’m all about mi familia. Wait, we are of German descent. I’m all about meine familie.
Well, I’m all about me too. I’ve been to the doctor for myself — twice, in seven days. Once for the bronchitis. Then for the g-doc. And now I have to go to an endocrinologist, because apparently my thyroid is doing funny things. I must be a freak of nature, because I have symptoms of hyperthyroidism, but the bloodwork showed an underactive thyroid, which is hypothyroidism.
And all that makes me think of is I’m a hyper-hypo!
I found time to read while the family was ill. That’s what I had written about yesterday, that I was just reading, reading, reading. No, not Twilight. I still haven’t, and I think now I’m not just because everyone else has. That’s the best rebellious act I can come up with. Anyway, I read. I went to the library and checked out three books. One by an author that I’d read before and kind of liked, so I was giving her another chance. The second by an author I knew I would like, but I also knew the book was going to be intense. Then the third book was one I’d read before, but I wanted some comfort reading in case the first book sucked and the second book scared me. All in all, it was good reading.
But other than doctor’s appointments and escaping quickly into some books, I’ve pretty much been into The Husband and the little ones. And while, yes, that’s what I’m supposed to do, I’m also ready for a teensy break. Everyone else got to rest while they were sick, you know? Me? I’m hoarse and talking like Kathleen Turner. Because it is due largely to The Phlegm, it is decidedly unsexy.
Hopefully I will be better in a couple of days, when The Husband will be home to be Super Daddy to Li’l Bit, Big Sister will be in school, and I will go out and have some retail therapy. And hopefully everyone will stay well, and my mind won’t be filled only with thoughts of alternating Tylenol and Motrin, phlegm, and poor pathetic loved ones curled up on couches or in beds awaiting their soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (because I make the best grilled cheese sandwiches, ever).
Well, even then, my world will still mostly revolve around them. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t still more to me than that. But it does mean I know which part is more important.