Browsing Tag


Bitch’in Life

When Moms Get Sick


I know, moms aren’t allowed to get sick. And aside from one pesky instance when I fell flat on my face and spent a few days in bed recovering, I’ve done a pretty good job toughing it out through any little ailment over the years.

That is until earlier this week, when the flu or an unusually debilitating case of food poisoning kicked my ass, hard.

The first clear thought I had when I knew I was going to be sick was, “This can’t be the flu. I don’t want to make anyone sick.”

I know that sounds very martyr-like of me, but trust me, it wasn’t that at all. Second only to puppets, clown, and carnies, I am terrified of children’s illnesses. Just the thought of it all — long nights lying half awake, waiting to be called to the kid’s bedroom; then even longer days figuring out first how to clear the decks and then later, all the rescheduling of appointments, helping with the pile of missed homework, and generally playing catch-up… even if the kid is out sick only one day. And do I even have to mention the scrubbing, the laundry/goddamn sheet folding, and the overdrive of chaos that sickness brings into an otherwise relatively sane household? read more

Parenting, Recipes

Take Good Care of Yourself


’Tis the season to be… busy. Holiday parties, marathon shopping sessions, tree trimming, latke making, holiday baking, family visits, visiting family, on the run and on the go with a ho, ho, ho!

If I have learned one thing as a parent, it’s the best laid plans are guaranteed to change. And the most predictable predicament lies at the intersection of seasons: holiday vs. cold and flu. So is it any wonder the first sign of Santa, I run for the Vitamin C? While the old guy looks well fed and jolly, it doesn’t escape me that the dude always wears gloves and has a bushy beard as a germ catcher.

Last weekend, my daughter and I went to the local mall’s tree lighting ceremony. While others were cheerfully singing along to Jingle Bell Rock, I had a surreal out-of-body experience. First of all, I hate being squeezed in with the rest of teeming humanity — ye olde panic disorder rears her ugly head. Secondly, I didn’t need special 3-D glasses to see germs dashing through the air on a one-nose open sneeze. A sniff here, a cleared throat there, and suddenly I understood why germaphobes wear surgical masks in pubic. Pass me the plum pudding scented antibacterial gel; I’m starting to panic. read more