OMG, my dying hubby just said something and I’m STILL laughing (with a special offer from LOLA!!)

Ummmmmm. Can I show you what my bedroom looks like right now? Nope, not how messy it is. It’s actually not as messy as usual because a week ago I freaked out on my rugrats and made them both clean their rooms, and then I walked into my room and realized I was calling the kettle black big time.

This is my bedroom right now.

Yup. He has the bubonic plague. Oh nooooo wait, wrong century. He has a cold. I mean I assume it’s a cold because his nose is running and he hasn’t thrown up or copped a squat on the toilet for any length of time. So far the only symptoms I’ve seen are a crapload of tissues and the inability to do anything by himself. Well, besides pick up the remote control and constantly ask me to get him things.

Can I have some water? Can I have another tissue box? Can I have some soup? I’m like sure, honey, of course I’ll get the love of my life WHATEVER you need. It’s not like I have anything else to do (cough cough, laundry, homework, dinner, cleaning, bedtime, grocery shopping, etc etc etc).

Anyways, I just brought him some ice cubes for his water (as requested), and as I’m walking out of the bedroom he notices that I’m hunched over a little.

DYING HUBBY: What’s wrong?

ME: It’s nothing. Just cramps because I’m getting my period.

And you’re not going to believe what he says back…

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Anyways, back to my story!!

So this is what I say:

ME: It’s nothing. Just cramps because I’m getting my period.

And this is what he says:

HUBBY: You should get in bed too.

Bwhahahahahahahahaha. No wait, I’m not done yet. Bwhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Seriously, does he seriously think I have time to lie in bed every time I have period cramps? Or the sniffles? Because do you know what would happen to our house if I were out of commission? This is what it would probably look like:

Yup. And then by the time I recover and get out of bed, I’ll just have to deal with the disaster my absence left behind. So yes, my abdomen might feel like it’s being stabbed over and over again by serrated ginsu knives (P.S. Lola just started selling an essential oil blend for cramps that I’m so excited to try), but I’m a mom. And moms don’t stop for pain. I still have to grocery shop so we don’t starve to death, and I still have to do laundry so we all don’t smell like gym socks, and I still have eyes on the back of my head to make sure no one is sledding down the stairs or swinging from the ceiling fan or Facetiming Grandma in their birthday suit.

I don’t stop to lie down, whether I have my period or appendicitis.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering how I responded to my dying hubby when he made the brilliant suggestion that I get in bed, I didn’t say a thing. I just marched downstairs and told the kids their daddy missed them and was hoping they’d come cuddle with him so he could turn off the boring football game and watch a movie together. So they ran upstairs to jump in bed with him and now they’re all watching a lonnnng G-rated movie with lots of infectious songs sung by cute little animals.

Oh wait, never mind. I can hear my hubby getting up now. It’s a miracle!

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