Last week our younger son was sick, and stayed home from school one day. Then on Friday, right after drop-off, LOD told me, “I have a 102 degree fever. Could you pick up the kids?”
(This is notable, fer shur, because in the 13 or so years I’ve known him, I can remember only one other time LOD has ever been sick enough to miss work, and that was with cocksackie. The man has an immune system of titanium, which he seems to have passed down to our older son, who was bitterly jealous that the little one got to stay home from school.)
So I left work, picked them up, brought them back to my office, and attempted halfway successfully to get work done until I finally gave up and hauled them home to run around rambunctiously on my own time.
Then I started feeling that tell-tale hot-gravel-in-the-throat feeling. This morning I called LOD and asked him if he could take the kids to school so I could go to the doctor. He did, and I’m now on antibiotics.
This could be any family’s story, except that we’re two families now and that makes it easier (in this one instance). If we’d been together, we’d be way more interdependent, so his being sick last week could have screwed all kinds of things up, and my needing to see the doctor today instead of waiting for Thursday (when he had them) could have screwed things up. Instead, since we’re each set up to operate independently, it’s just a shift instead of a Big Deal.
Although maybe people in healthy marriages just see it as a shift, too? I don’t know, never having been in one. That’s the thing–it’s hard to compare against what you never lived. At any rate, it is so much easier to deal with illness now that our eggs are in two separate baskets.