melissaisaacson.com

I'm sick and all I can think of is that I hope that new Cobra policy that hasn't kicked in yet, covers Swine Flu. You know, just in case.

I got sick because I kissed my son directly on the lips the other day while he had a cold.

Why would I do that, you ask? Well, three weeks after chipping his three front teeth and taking 20 stitches in the lip due to a rollerblading accident, he was finally kissable.

Besides, I enjoy tormenting my kids occasionally just to keep them on their toes.

So now I am paying for it. I remember when they were little and they’d come home from preschool with a runny nose and my husband and I would catch the equivalent of Hemorrhagic Fever.

Some things never change.

Now, I am watching Alec's baseball game and finding that even outside, from a distance of 30 yards or so, people give you suspicious looks when you blow your nose constantly. Like I’m contagious or something.

I am not a good patient. I know this about myself. I want everyone in the house to know just how sick I am and I’m a moaner. Every couple has one. It’s usually the man. It’s one of those first nights of the cold, when your throat is searing, your teeth throbbing (or is that just me?) and every turn is a new adventure in trying to grab a tissue in time. Everyone feels like moaning but only some of us actually go ahead and express ourselves.

I generally reserve it for when I’m really sick. I’m planning on it for tonight.

I figure I have it coming in my current jobless state. I may even stay in my pajamas all day tomorrow. I have this planned out too. I told myself I wouldn’t do it. That I would bathe on a semi-regular basis and get dressed in clothes not made of sweatshirt material.

But I don’t feel good. Did I mention that? And I am grateful that Alec’s game is almost over. It is very easy in youth baseball to tell how much your kids improve each year. Last year, his games took approximately seven hours to complete. Tonight, we actually got one in at around the two-and-a-half-hour mark.

Mark Buehrle could pitch a doubleheader in less time.

But the kids really are getting better. At ages 10 and 11, they know which base to throw to and they can usually throw it there. Tonight the leftfielder on the opposing team made an over-the-shoulder running grab and I wanted to alert Lou Piniella. No hop for this kid either.

When the game was over, they slapped hands as usual, which sent shockwaves through the crowd, most of whom were still sitting 30 yards away from me and my tissues. Elbow bumping is being strongly encouraged after soccer games and in church services.

My kid is oblivious, which is why I love him so much.  I’m going to have to remember not to kiss him tonight.