Oh...what a Monday...

I was informed at my monthly stat review that I took 54 hours of sick time in the month of March.  (I had a lot of dental work that I was tired of putting off and at my job, we aren't allowed any time off between mid-April and early August.) So when I woke up yesterday feeling a little under the weather, I decided to tough it out and come to work anyway.  I got up, brushed my teeth, got dressed all before my second alarm went off to signal that it was time to wake the Bear.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself because it was looking like we were going to be early for school/work instead of running around like mad people trying to get everything together.  I woke the Bear and guided him to the bathroom and continued my routine.  I was just about to make his lunch when I heard a meek little, "Mooooom."  Sigh.  I know that sound. 
"Yes baby."
"I don't feel good."  He stumbled in and laid his head on my chest.
"What feels bad?" He's not one to fake sick to get out of school, but I need to know if we just have to go to the doctor right this instant.
"My tummy aches and I feel dizzy.  Oh...and my pooh was soft."
We talk about pooh a lot in my house.  The Bear has an aversion to going to the restroom in public, so we normally have to deal with his constipation.  Soft pooh almost always means something is wrong with him.
Sigh.  "Lay back down babe.  I'll call in for us."
But it was 6:45 at this point and no one would answer.  So I started cleaning house (as I wasn't feeling so bad anymore), when suddenly, I realized I was wheezing. My stupid allergies were clogging my sinuses. And my throat felt raw and sore.  Antihistamine, here I come. 
By now it was 7:05, so I could call the school.  The lady in the office heard stomach ache and said, "Oh. That's been going around.  Get a bucket."  GREAT...what  a monday.
7:15 am.  *yawn* My boss won't be in for another 45 minutes.  Can't just leave a message. *yawn* Have to *yawn* speak to her directly. *yawn*  Stupid antihistamine.
7:30 am. I don't even want to play Facebook apps. I just want to crawl into bed.
Call Boss. "G'morning T.  I hate to do this, but the Bear isn't feeling well, so I have to stay home today.  I'll call back to speak to you directly."
8:15 am. Cell phone ringing. Sorority sister.  "I saw on Facebook that you don't feel well.  Just calling to check on you.  BTW, you sound like shit."  Thanks...really. 
8:30 am.  (Because apparently me sounding like shit doesn't stop her from talking for another 15 minutes.) Call boss. "G'morning T."
"Oh. You sound horrible."  Really people??
"I got your message.  I was going to let you off for a half day anyway.  So just count this as 4 hours sick time. Hope you both feel better."  I don't think I've mentioned before how much I love my boss. 
Jump forward to 10:45 am.  I wake up and realize that I've also started.  This day can't get any better can it?  Wait, I don't hear anything.  Walk into the Bear's room to check on him.  He's still sleeping.  Wow, he really doesn't feel well, he never sleeps past 8.  I can't resist putting my hand on his back to feel for breathing.  I'm paranoid like that.  I'm satisfied.  And still sleepy.  Back to bed.
12:30 pm.  "Mooom. I'm hungry."
"I can make malt-o-meal."  Face screws up.  "Soup?" Face screws up more.
"What do you want?"
"Sausage biscuit."  Wait, what?
"I thought you didn't feel well."
"I feel better now. Can we get food?"
I stand to find I have that bubble headed drugged up feeling...and I can't breath again.
We go to the grocery store, because I don't have breakfast foods since he eats breakfast at school.  He's skipping around and playing with the cart.  I'm shuffling aimlessly and wiping my nose with the tissue in my pocket, trying not to cough on anyone.  I get him sausage biscuits.  Then I get soup, juice, couple of dinners worth of frozen entrees (gasp all you want, don't feel like cooking), and some stuff for my lunch as I can see, I'll be back at work for the rest of the week.  I also grab a bottle of ginger ale in case he's misdiagnosing his, "Feeling better".
1:30 We get home and microwave his sausage biscuit.  I climb back into bed.
1:40 "Mom, I'm going to make another one."
"Are you sure?  You're stomach is okay?"
"Yeah, just hungry."
1:50 I can barely breathe.  Crap more stupid antihistamine.
*yawn...crash*
4:00 pm "Mooom.  You okay?  Did I get you sick?"
"No babe.  I'm sure it's just allergies."
Hands me a fresh box of tissues.  "Do you want some juice?"
*smile* "I'm okay babe. But I'm probably going to go back to sleep.  Is that going to bother you?"
"No.  I'll just watch cartoons."  I could have sworn that I only stayed home today to take care of him.
6:45 pm Cell phone rings. Daddy. "Hey Daddy."
Barely a whisper, "Hey baby, I don't feel so great today."
"Me either Dad."
6:47 pm (Because that's how long you keep people on the phone when they sound sick.) "Mooom.  I'm hungry. Could you make the pizza?"
Bake Pizza.  Set timer.  Play on Facebook.
Ding!
"Bear.  Pizza's ready."  No answer.  What tha?!?  He was passed out on the couch.  Guess he wasn't at 100%.
Moral of the story...what gives him the sniffles, will lay my ass out flat.

I'm feeling much better today though.