All By Myself

Okay so Roy is sick with a major bad ear infection. He is sicky poo and that sucks. I haven't been able to smooch on him for the past 3 days and ITS KILLING ME! I never realized how much I hang all over him. Poor guy. If I'm not laying across his lap, hanging on his neck, back-packing him at night, resting on his shoulder or cozying up to him in some form or fashion, then I just don't know what to do with myself. He even holds my hand at night when we are laying in bed watching TV. But here I've been for the past 3 days with no one to maul. And not being groped, myself. TRAGEDY. In order to maintain my sanity I have been forced to carry Peepers around and inbed my lips into his fat cheeks. I have also been snorting his thighs and sucking on his forehead. He seems to enjoy all of this but it isn't nearly enough to satiate my hunger for affection. I can't really kiss Cris because if he isn't damp and salty-tasting, he's squirming around and accidentally head-butting me. Another downfall to Roy being temporarily out of commission, is that I gotta do EVERYTHING ALL BY MYSELF. And thats just damn exhausting. Especially with Peepers. Roy and I have this unspoken arrangement where we tag-team Peepers. I run the bath, Roy gets him naked, I do the scrubbing, Roy does the drip-dry and obligatory hoe-down tub dance, I do the towel wrapping, Roy does the sleepsuit dressing, I empty the tub. Roy scoots Cris in the shower, I holler at Cris to hurry, Roy hollers at Cris to hurry, I lay out the undies and pjs, Roy hollers at Cris to hurry, I supervise post-shower dressing, Roy feeds the dogs, I say the bedtime prayer. We exchange "fives" and collapse simultaneously into bed. I kind of forgot what it was like to be a single mom. I was a single mom for 6 years and I could have gone Pro but then I met Roy and I must have become lazy after that. Then again, one kid is easier than two. Naturally. And it was JUST me and Cris so life was simpler. Lonely, but simpler. Point being...I don't ever want to do the single mom routine ever again. And Roy is not allowed to get sick ever again. Only I am allowed to be sick because Roy is apparently much more capable than I am at doing everything on his own PLUS pamper me. Because when I'm sick, I am comatose. I am incapable of moving, looking, speaking, driving, dressing or just plain being cognizant. I lay, much like a slug, amidst blankets and hankies and pillows and TV remote controls. Meanwhile Roy offers food and subsequently whisks away cleanly licked plates, brings medication and cold glasses of water, tucks blankets around chilled limbs, requires all house occupants to maintain low noise levels, feeds, bathes, and entertains the boys, and routinely checks for fever. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, Roy get better soon! I miss you!