Bring on the Chicken Soup

Sick. I gave up this morning after getting the girls off to school, called in sick, and slept for six hours. And coughed. I have a sinus infection and an ear infection and my soul is tired. Dear Husband also has an ear infection, which he blames on me, because he wanted me to go to the doctor last Friday, when I thought it was just a little allergy. So now I pray that the kids don't get whatever this truly is (my doctor is not the best), particularly the youngest, who spends at least a week a year in the hospital with pneumonia.

I have no sick time left. I've spent it all on the kids' illnesses. I feel guilty for not being at work. They are overburdened with Katrina stuff, donations, updates, coordinating with disaster response. And here I am, so drained I wish I could take tomorrow as well. Oh, I wish I could take a week. At work I could know I was making a contribution; here I feel ineffectual and whiney. I guess I feel like being whiney. I promised myself I would not watch the news reports today.

Dear Husband called and said that since I sound better, I can take on a freelance project. Oh joy. We always need money, so how can I not contribute? But now I foresee late nights and even less time to get everything else done. I barely have a week to do a heavy edit. Oh what have I gotten myself into?

I think the problem I have with taking proper care of myself doesn't have so much to do with putting others' needs before my own and a lot to do with this little girl expectation that someone will stop me and say, Okay, young lady--you march off straight to bed. It's much easier for me to identify what others need than what I need. Well, my husband would say I come up short on that score with him all the time, so I'll ammend that to say that it's easier for me to identify what children and employers need than what I need.

Entropy has overtaken the house. There are clothes to be folded, wet linens still in the washing machine. Papers everywhere. Fundraising this and that from schools. Receipts. Bills. Paystubs. I think I will go back to bed for a while and pray myself to sleep.