Dear Elli,
I was supposed to go to this industry networking thing today. It's this thing where you go around a course and shoot clay targets flying through the air with a shotgun with several of your closest colleagues. And then when you're done blowing shit up, you go eat food and drink beer together. Sounds fun, right? I was super excited to try it!
But we're sick. You have strep. I have some devil sinus thing straight from the depths of hell. My face hurts. My head is pounding. I can't walk into the next room without carrying a box of tissues with me. My freaking eyeballs even hurt. You and I are a damn mess.
I've been sick for three days now. I've powered through two days of meetings. I've told myself repeatedly that I'm not that sick. I talk to myself inside my head. "Suck it up, you little wuss. You don't have time for this. You are a freaking beast! You have shit to do, Jenn. Do it."
But today I can't. I'm throwing in the towel. I'm not gonna scramble to find a sitter to watch your strep-riddled little body because you can't go to school and then drive three hours to blow shit up today with my colleagues. I'm gonna sit around in my jammies with you and we're gonna blow our noses and whine together instead.
But I feel guilty as hell.
You see, I have this complex. I'm 100% convinced that I should never be too sick to do anything. Especially work things. Other people are too sick to do things, and that's totally okay. But not me. I'm different. If I'm too sick, I'm a wuss. I'm weak. Incompetent. A shitty business partner. Uncommitted. If I'm too sick, everyone will hate me and never trust me again.
I'm serious. Insane, right?
Intellectually, I know that going today is stupid. I'm not gonna be fun. I will worry about you and how you're feeling. And I'll go around this course with a pocketful of tissues coughing every 30 seconds while everyone around me smiles politely and strategically avoids getting too close to me. They won't be happy I'm there. They will be secretly wishing I'd get the hell away from them.
So I'm not going. But have no fear, little lady. I will sit here all day and feel like the biggest loser of all time. I'll apologize repeatedly for the next six months to the colleagues I was supposed to blow shit up with today. And I'll be half convinced forever that I'm a little wuss.
Aren't you super excited that you share DNA with me?
I love you.
Mom
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