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Being the OCD mother that I am, I’m well-prepared for cold and flu season. I am stocked with tissues, cough medicine, vitamin C, lots of fresh batteries for the temporal thermometer and vaporizer and all the TLC my kids will require. We’ve had our flu shots and I’ve trained my children in the fine art of frequent hand-washing. I am armed and ready for the battle of the germs.
In addition to all preparations, I forgot to mention that my children also eat well. I make sure they have lots of fruits and vegetables in their diet and they get their vitamin and omega supplements daily. They should be the picture of health. We should all be… but we’re not. Only one of us is the picture of health year after year. Know who that is? My non-fruit eating, non-vegetable eating, forgets-to-wash-his-hands husband. He doesn’t get enough sleep, he never met a donut or cookie he didn’t like and will kiss anyone regardless of how much they are coughing or sneezing and yet he never gets so much as a runny nose. As a good wife, I should want him to be healthy and I should be happy that he has such a great immune system. I must not be a good wife because it drives me crazy that he remains the picture of health while the rest of us walk around carrying boxes of tissues.
It’s not just illness that he seems to have conquered – it’s weight loss as well. We are both trying to lose extra pounds and have been successful although he has somehow managed to do it while still eating cookies, polishing off the leftover food on the kids’ dinner plates and finishing the extra Halloween candy. He can eat bacon, sausage, chocolate, ice cream and anything else that a normal person would shy away from and still be down a pound or two by the end of the week. Again, as a good wife, I should be happy for him but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not a good wife.
Wait a minute… as I’m writing this I just heard my husband cough. Oooh, I just heard another one. Could it be? Has Superman come across some Kryptonite in the kitchen? A good wife would be concerned and sympathetic. Me? I’ll have a huge smile on my face as I hand him a box of tissues.
