Yeah, my birthday was two days ago, so time for birthday wishes is pretty much gone. I’ve missed that boat. But it’s not my fault. Really.
I was sick.
Like, really sick.
Not on death’s door sick, but sick enough that my head hurt all day, I had what I call laryngitis (again, not doctor diagnosed), and couldn’t sit up long enough to attempt dinner out with my family (which my husband actually bothered to line up for the first time in years). Sick enough that I would have volunteered for the guillotine to end the throbbing in my head.
My poor seven year old (who gave me this illness, which she picked up in school “from the boy who threw up next to her desk”) apologized for “making me sick on my birthday”. Aww…poor thing actually felt guilty. I told her it wasn’t her fault, any more than the kid who threw up next to her wasn’t to blame for her being sick.
But it really did stink.
Who wants to be sick on their birthday? And on top of it, taking care of her sick kid, too. And working through it (yes, I work from home, where you don’t get “sick days”) because if I didn’t get my job done it impacted three or four other people who needed to do theirs. So. Not. Fair.
So I really want a do-over.
Maybe next week.
If not then, I guess I always have next year.
Nope, that’s not making me feel any better.
