Who takes care of the care takers?

I'm sick. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was the case, and it was confirmed on Saturday when I received the diagnoses of a sinus infection. For me to give in and go see a doctor, means it has to have reached a point of terminal velocity (can you use that term to describe illness? I don't care, it sounds cool). And it had... I'll spare you (most of) the details, but you can't find the colour of some of the stuff I coughed up in nature. It was that gross.

It's not the total down-for-the-count kind of sick, but it has been going on for a little while and it's starting to take it's toll on my body. I feel like I'm walking through a giant mass of gelatinous goo with shoes that weigh at least ten pounds each, all the while wearing titanium body armour. And carrying about 10 extra pounds that I must have gained from all the mini eggs I have eaten since Easter candy went on sale. I'm tired, my body is tired, and all I really want to do is lay on the floor, with Elise within arms reach because I'm sure not moving too quickly if she gets into anything.

But no, it just doesn't work that way. Because there is laundry to do, mail to open and file, meals to make, a dog to feed, diabetes to treat, a house to clean, grocery lists to compile, bills to pay, coupons to cut, so on and so forth for evermore, ad infinitum.

It doesn't seem fair, does it? When Fred is sick, he gets to take the day off, stay home and lie on the sofa. When I am sick, I get to stay home and... well, pretty much do everything that I normally do in a day. Momma don't get no sick days.

I'm not saying that Fred doesn't do his share. In fact, he is the antithesis of the stereo-typical husband. When he is home, he goes above and beyond in helping out and I know I am so blessed to have a guy like that. Unfortunately, since we are not independently wealthy (or even dependently wealthy for that matter), Fred has to work, and life must go on.

So I'm slogging through as best as I can, but I honestly don't know how much longer my poor body can put up with this. It doesn't help that Elise has been sick too, which as I posted earlier, makes caring for her diabetes so difficult. I'm mentally and physically exhausted.

In a perfect world, we would have some sort of "Mommy Charter", dictating that when one of us is down for the count, others would step in to help out, giving Moms everywhere the peace of mind that they too, can have sick days.

In fact, when I become president of my own sovereign island nation (which will happen when I purchase said island - preferably a deserted one), I will invoke this idea into law. If you want citizenship to this heretofore unnamed nation, you must pass an IQ test, a personality test, smell nice, and listen to good music. The president has spoken.