It's just a cold but by golly I feel like a bucket of warmed up cat sick.
I would not be exaggerating to say that one of the things I dislike the most about being sick is the fact that I still have to be the mummy. Oh how I long for my uni days when I could lie about in my tissue infested bed of toast crumbs and DVD covers, bedside table swarming with tea cups. Yes I still had to make my own toast, but hauling my arse to the kitchen for 3 minutes and then immediately back to my darkened bedroom to feel sorry for myself is but a distant dream.
It got me thinking actually, that as far as being "looked after" when you are sick, as you get older, it's a gradual descent into hell really.
As a kid it was almost an event to stay home from school with a cold. I admit, I had it pretty sweet.
I would get shepherded off to my Nanna's house, where I would be set up on the couch with pillows and blankets, the TV and my faithful nurse maid, nanna!
My god my nanna was a legend when it came to nursing her (sometimes faking it) sick grandchildren. There was a constant snack trolley for starters. Salada biscuits with all manner of toppings. My favourites incuded, tomato and cheese, cheese and pickled onions and cheese and gherkin rounds. She also let me drink tea out of her fancy china cups and Loys Lemonade. Remember Loys? Was it Loys? I don't know... there was a dude in a van and he bought soft drinks to my grandparents house once a month. I frickin loved that dude. The Loys van was almost as exciting as Santa's sleigh. In summer, my cousins and I would hang out on my grandparents verandah waiting for the Loys van and go a little bit mental when he rocked up. The clinking of those bottles was the stuff of childhood summer memories I tells ya!
Anyway, I digress. Other highlights of getting to spend a sick day at Nanna and Papa's house were as follows:
1. Playing shops. My Nanna had an enormous icecream container full of buttons which I would thread onto wool and subsequently sell to my Nanna. She was my only client but she was very loyal. She paid me in 5c pieces- REAL MONEY. Bloody legend.
2. Sitting up at the kitchen counter watching my Nanna peel the beans. I don't know why this was so appealing but I vividly remember watching her peel and slice beans and being mesmerised.
3. The ambiance. Grandparents homes have a certain feel about them. The look, smell and texture of their 60's furniture (now highly hip), the smell of baking and moth balls from my "convalescing blankets", the awesome lino in their kitchen which I still make a habit of sitting on when I visit and the sound of my Papa's ban saw in the distance and the faint smell of saw dust (he was a carpenter well into retirement).
4. No brother. Whilst all this was going on, I didn't have to share my grandparents with anyone. All mine. No pesky brother to detract from MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
What a lot of sentiment. I didn't begin this post with the intention of becoming all sentimental. I was actually intending on having a giant whinge about having to continue on with the daily grind despite feeling like garbage. My point was going to be that it is such a harsh shift from nanna's house to "fend for thyself single gal" and finally, the woman I was last night, cooking dinner, soothing tears, checking homework, all the while feeling and looking like the walking dead and feeling sorry for herself because "no one gives a crap that I'm sick. Bloody kids are so self indulgent". My point though, seems to have been hijacked by the fact that I have realised I had my time being looked after in the most lovely possible way and that's what being a kid is all about. My kids won't have those memories exactly but I still really enjoy making a fuss of them when they're ill.
They deserve it after all, because one day, they will likely be in my shoes, cursing the little monkeys hovering about their feet and very much wanting to throw a quilt over their head and sob.
And if I am VERY lucky I might get to be the Nanna, playing shops and making Salada biscuits and cups of tea.
I need to give a shout out to my mum for the the frickin' awesome wall paper choice in our lounge room.
Ever the style conscious, she changed it to fake wood paneling in the 80's.
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