I love Dallas.
I just wanted to make that clear before I start this rant. I really, really love him. He’s a great father and husband. He’s a soldier and our hero. I am very proud of him and I love him.
But right now, I want to kill him.
He’s sick. Any woman out there will probably agree that the worst illness in the world is the one that your husband gets. They are big, huge, giant babies when they are sick. It is worse, way worse, then when the kids are sick.
The little kids might puke all over me. They regularly cough directly in my face. The big kids get extremely grumpy. They also schmear their germs everywhere. But they whine less than my husband.
He never just has a cold. He is dying, actually dying! He can pinpoint the exact moment he started feeling bad. He will relive that moment for weeks. He will ask me to check his forehead to see if he has a fever every half hour. He will be irritable and irrational.
He will never admit to any of these behaviors.
He started to feel bad Sunday evening. Around that time we got an invitation to go out for drinks with some friends next Friday. FRIDAY. This was Sunday. Dallas said that he could not commit to anything for Friday because he felt bad Sunday evening.
That was when I started having murderous thoughts. I mean, how often do we get to go out as a couple, just for fun? Not often friends, not often. I would have to be puking and bleeding out my eyes not to go. But my husband was already sure that in 5 days he would still be sick.
By Monday night he was actually sick. He had a fever when he got home from work. This made him even more unbearable to be around.
It’s not just that he felt bad. He was angry because he felt bad. He was tired. He went to sleep before the twinkies. (They go to bed at 8 PM.)
Yesterday he came home from work after going to sick call. (That’s Army for going to the doctor) He had an ear infection and meds. I escaped to the indoor playground so I would not have to deal with him.
Last night was my night for the soccer carpool. I got home about 9PM. Dal was already asleep. I stayed up for a while and went to bed around 10:30. He was snoring and coughing and snoring and coughing.
He kept taking all the covers. I was shivering. Every time I tried to take a tiny corner of the blanket back he shifted and grabbed it back from me. This went on for several hours.
Finally, he must have realized that I was cold and angry because he tried to snuggle. He shared the blankets and hugged me close.
He also jammed his elbow between my shoulder blades. No matter which way I moved he also moved so his big stupid elbow jabbed me. I wound up curled in the fetal position on the edge of the bed. With his elbow in my back.
Seriously, no jury would convict me.
He is still whining about being sick. I told him to take some Tylenol nighttime cold medicine so he could sleep without coughing. He hugged me good night (no kissing, duh…he’s sick) and said, “I hope I don’t die from overdosing on Tylenol, it says take every 4 hours.”
He took some at 6 and again at 9:30. I think he’ll be ok.
I’m sleeping on the couch tonight. I need to get some rest, I’m starting to feel a little achy.