our defenses have been breached

Not that long ago, while talking with a friend about our kids, I tempted the gods by mentioning how, except for a recent appendicitis scare and trip to the E.R. with Giggles, the kids had been healthy and avoided most of the summer colds that had been circling the perimeters of their friends.

Making that sort of comment is pretty much a shout out to the universe to come screw with us, which explains why I was struck down with some form of the plague this past week. I can hear the gods chuckling even now.

Damn flu bug slapped me sideways mid-day on Sunday when my head started to swim, sweat popped out of all pores like they were steam vents and I wilted like the neglected flowers in my front garden. One minute I was merrily zipping through tasks on the weekend to-do list the next I was flat on the sofa with a cool cloth for my brow. It was like a switch had been flipped. 

Somehow I dragged my sorry ass to work on Monday because I had meetings I could not miss but the only work I managed to really accomplish was not sprawling on my office floor in defeat. I finally threw in the towel and went home to sleep for two days. I missed my daughter's back to school night, which is ironic as I was also the Board of Education representative there that night, but since I think I got my current brand of plague attending a board meeting, I figure we're even now.

When I did make my way to work yesterday, certain facts about being sick and the work environment that I've always suspected were reinforced - co-worker's are often very sympathetic when you're sick. That sympathy turns to rabid avoidance when you sit at a conference table with a cough that implies pieces of lung are about to be ejected into the atmosphere. The only people that want you at work in those circumstances are the boss and human resources. My staff stood at the door of my office when they needed something and I think I heard them spraying disinfectant behind me when I walked through. And after a few coughing fit that left me cursing viciously when I could breathe, they just laughed at me. It's a good thing it's Friday.

On a separate note, one of the best tools at hand while bedridden was texting! It replaced the suffering in silence or yelling from the bedroom method normally in play. I just quickly zipped up a text to my husband or kids when I needed more tissues, a refill for my glass, my book or sympathy. Since my family was avoiding me and my germs* as much as possible, sending a text was an efficient way to prevent my throat from burning when I yelled and keeping contact at a minimum.

I'm participating, as a "“LG TextEd Ambassador”, in a discussion on the topic RBTL: Moms discuss teens and texting on BlogHer. It's week 2 and the topic is Decoding Your Teen's Texting Lingo. I so need a road map some days when my kids send me a text because this new shorthand confuses me to no end. Go on over to see what's what or clue the rest of us parents in on shorthand used by your teens. Each comment left benefits DoSomething.org with a $0.50 donation.


*My husband came home from work early yesterday, glaring at me for getting him sick. Hey, I tried to keep the germs to myself.

the deets: This is a compensated post, via BlogHer and LG. Since I have kids, whose fingers are compelled to text, it's a relevant topic I feel strongly about.