One Sick Daddy

I'm so mad. Here's my husband and he's sick. But from looking at this picture I can't tell, can you? If anyone even so much as thought of putting a sick picture of me on the Internet I would cry, in fact, I'm crying now.

"Wah, boo, hooo!"

Seriously, though, I know my husband is amazing, and if I ever did forget my Mom would be there to remind me, "be nice to him, he's such a good husband. Way better than your Father......."

"Yeah Mom, I know thanks, now mind your own business, please," I say. But my words fall on deaf, meddling ears.

When I came home from work around 7ish on Wednesday, he'd fed the kids and they were jammied up. All the dishes were on still on the table, so I got to work cleaning up the mess.

"Where's Daddy?" I ask the boys.

"He's sleeping," says Gio.

"What?" I question. "Where?"

"On the couch," answers Gio.

I walked out of the kitchen and there he was passed out on the couch. Turns out he wasn't feeling well, but he still got up Thursday morning and went to work.

"Honey didn't you read the district wide Swine Flu Policy memo?" I ask. "It says, 'if you're sick stay home.'"

Around 9:30 am my cell rings.

"Hey sicko," I say.

"I'm coming home," says Stefan. "Did you just call me Sicko?"

Anyways, my point is even though I know my husband, aka Saint Stefan and Jesus, does a lot. When he's sick, I get to see exactly how much he does. And it's always way more than I am consciously aware of.

I love you honey. Get well, soon. Please for me, for you, for everyone. Pray, people, pray!