I’m not complaining, just reporting.
So it hit me full-on this week: the difference between being a high-schooler and going back to high school as a full-fledged adult. My whole family came down with the flu, but it was uniquely choreographed so that each time one would be on the mend, another would go down. Like viral-bacterial-ballet-dominoes. Beautiful.
And the thing that I realized is that when I was sick in high school, my mom took care of me. And, yes, I had oodles of make-up work, and it mounted every day I was out; but I didn’t have bills to pay, forms to fill out, and I didn’t have to call in sick for myself. I didn’t have to drive myself, or my husband, or my kids to the doctor, and I didn’t have to make sure my blog was current.
So there you have it. I’m not saying that being a kid is easy, believe me (and don’t you try to change me back into one, Mr. Houdini!). But it would be nice, while I’m trying to study, if someone would make me dinner.
I’m just saying.