I've been battling a nasty cold for the past couple days. Usually, I am a pretty helpful, perky, and happy type of person, but when I get sick that all changes. I wouldn't say that I turn into a nasty, grouchy monster (well... at least not all the time), but I'm much more melancholy and quiet.
When Big Papa gets sick, I turn into my "Superwoman" wife counterpart and spend my time making him soup, getting him juice, blankets, and comfy pillows so that he will be as comfy as possible. When he gets sick, like most big and strong men, he REALLY gets sick. I don't think, as a woman, I will ever be able to understand the severity of his man illnesses. But I try my hardest to make him feel comfy so he can get better.
When I get sick, Big Papa does a good job of taking care of me, but what happened today explains a dilemma I face. Let me set the scene: Cheesecake Mama lays on the couch coughing, nose red, piles of tissues around her. Big Papa looks at her from across the room opening his big brown eyes even wider.
Big Papa: What can I do for you? Need some water? A snack? A blanket? What do you need?
Cheesecake Mama: I'm okay.
Big Papa: No really, what do you need?
Cheesecake Mama: Really, honey, I'm fine.
Big Papa: What do you want? What can I do? (His eyes get bigger creating his signature puppy dog look)
Cheesecake Mama: No seriously, I'm fine.
Big Papa: But honey --
Cheesecake Mama: Really, I'm fine.
After a short pause
Big Papa: Are we still friends? Do you still like me? Are you mad at me? Are you angry? What can I do to make you happy again?