My youngest daughter came down with a really nasty bug this week while we had family staying with us from out of town. I basically kept her in my bedroom to avoid spreading the germs and spent my time washing my hands, running up and down the stairs, cleaning up after Pukefest 2012, while cooking and entertaining guests who were wonderfully understanding of the predicament.

Someone not so understanding? The husband. Who at one point tried to make me feel guilty for sitting up with our daughter while she hurled and ran a high fever and coughed herself silly instead of hanging out on the patio with our guests. Seriously. Did he offer to help? Take over sick duty since the family was my cousin that I haven't seen in 20 years? Nope.

Thursday and Friday were abnormally long days at work for him. I'd love to say he made overtime or something but given he is on salary it just meant he made a whole lot less those two days. Typically, I cut him a wide berth for being extra tired, especially since we were up late with our guests, but given that I was running on about 3 hours of sleep from Monday all the way through Friday night - I was a tad less sympathetic to his fatigue after 2 long days. He came home Friday loaded for bear, ready to have some sort of argument over something stupid, I was exhausted and basically just ejected him from the room rather than drag it out into full blown hall way sex. Hall way sex? That's where you pass each other in the hall way and yell, "Fuck you!" and get responded to with, "No. Fuck YOU."

Now it's Saturday morning and mom (that would be me) is officially spent. I've managed to keep the house relatively clean, fresh coffee in the pot every morning, made dinner almost every night and nursed a sick kid. In his world, he is the most exhausted, most put out, and has expended the most amount of energy. Did I mention he slept somewhere else while I sat up with sick kid?

It would be nice to hear, "wow, you probably need a break. Why don't you take a nap while I keep tabs on everything." Except, I know I'd wake up and find him asleep in front of the television while the kid sat there glassy eyed, nose running, dry heaving and scorching like a human furnace.

While I have loads of sympathy for the sick kid, I've got to say I'm reaching the end of  my rope. When an eight year old whines and refuses to actually speak and tell you what is hurting or how she is feeling when you ask - I'm not exactly going to continue with the "oh, poor baby" routine. I love my kid, but she's 8 not 8 months old. I'm well past the point of checking her diaper, feeding her, burping her and running through the whole routine until she goes to sleep or stops crying. Which, is basically what I told her last night when she insisted on whimpering instead of telling me what was wrong. This morning she made her grand entrance downstairs to plop her ass on the couch and proceeded to throw a full blown crying jag where her dad and sister could see her because I wanted her to actually try to EAT something before she took her medicine. Tears, hysterical sobbing and "you are so MEEEEAAAAAANNNNN to MEEEEEEEEEEE" with full blown dramatic flourish for her captive viewing audience. I marched her back upstairs and plopped her back into bed. There is just no way I am going to cater to an 8 year old acting like a 2 year old - especially after the entire week of practically no sleep that I've had.

So, combine that with the husband's "oh poor me" routine and I've had it. I'm sorry, honey, I don't want to hear how tired and achy you are or how hard those two days have been for you. Fresh out of sympathy - I ran out of it roughly the same time I ran out of "supportive husband." And, if I hear you peacefully snoring while I clean the kitchen and clean up after a sick kid and company one more time - there is a really good chance that I'm going to jam a banana up both of your nostrils.