UGH

I somehow caught FrogPrincess' virus by reading her blog. I spent all of Wednesday night alternating crying and throwing up. By six AM I already called both my mother and my boyfriend. I was too weak to let the dog outside to go to the bathroom so she went in my roommate's bathroom: just not near the toilet. I called my mother again at her work about 10 AM and I told her I was convinced I that I was dying. She had to leave work and drive a couple of hours to my apartment. It was ugly. Instead of sitting by me, she cleaned my entire apartment. Even inside the microwave I noticed several days later (and 7 pounds lighter) when I was ready to eat again.

Mothers.

I'm a grown productive member of society. I buy my own cars, pay taxes out the ying yang, and contribute to the economy like any other adult. But when things get ugly, apparently I still want my mommy. I called out sick to work and my boss asked if anyone was with me. "My mother," I replied, and I heard a giggle. Okay so not everyone may do what I did. My roommate came home that afternoon with a case of beer, opened the door, found me sprawled semi-conscious on one couch, and found my mother on the other, folding my laundry. An odd sight, I admit. But I needed someone to take care of me and who did it?

My Mother.