Shovelin’ It In My Piehole

Sergei was sick. Boy-child has a viral cold. Girl-child has a bacterial cold.

I have all three in combination.

I feel like total and utter crap, and am apparently making up for all my past sins by being at work with what feels like a head run over by a cement mixer, a chest full of jello, a nose like a hose, and a wee bit of dizziness that’s not even fun, not even like the most lamest high I ever got off homegrown weed.

Why don’t I go home? Why? Dear jeebus at the bowling alley, WHY?

Because, as a mom, as a working gal with limited sick days, who works at a company with an HR manager who’s never taken an HR course and has all the sympathy of a python, it’s because…I have to save my sick days for the kids.

Because, as luck would have it, any illness they get lasts for 2 days at least, and the two kids are never sick at the same time, which means I take two days off on week 1, and two days off on week 2, and when I’m finally sick on week 3, well, that’s just too damn frickin’ hella bad, innit?

I’m inhaling tea, and shoving Halls up my nose, and craving foods that, being a dutiful Atkins-maven I shouldn’t be eating.

But.

This morning Girl-child’s leftover brown sugar cinnamon Poptart looked pretty good. So I ate it.
And then I had some cheese (which will cry havoc with my phlegm, but faaack it)
And then some crackers, oh, yummy salty things.
And I have some BBQ pork rinds somewhere….

There’s a lovely salad in my lunch bag ready with tuna and veggies and it should be really good, and healthy, and make me feel like a billion bucks.

There’s also candy bars and chips in the vending machine in the Break Room.

Guess what my body’s craving?