More whining

Woke up to find the migraine is still hanging in there. And I have a storytime. I hate trying to sing and read stories and act cheerful when I have a migraine. Plus, you have to be alert, because there’s an audience of 30 kids under 5 and I really need to pay attention to what they’re up to.

But at least they have teachers or parents with them. How do teachers with migraines manage to be responsible for 30 kids every day? I never could have had a job like that. Thinking about it now, I don’t even know how I managed to be a parent. No wonder my daughter is a better cook than me, I was always either at work or lying in a dark room, how else was she going to eat? (sob)

And it’s foggy today, and I hate the fog. (But if it was a beautiful, sunny day, would I be moaning that my head hurts too much to enjoy it?)

I guess I’m all whined out. Thinking about being a migraineous parent reminds me of a day when my daughter was about six. I had a migraine. One of her friends had been at our house all day long. I was lying on the couch in the living room and every time they roared through I would grasp my head and beg them to be quiet. Towards dinner time they came and asked me if the friend could stay the night.

I took the cloth off my eyes and looked at the friend. “What? All day long, all I’ve done is lay on the couch and tell you to be quiet, and now you want to spend the night? Are you crazy?” The friend put her hands on her hips and said, “Look, it’s the same thing at my house. At least here I have a friend to play with.”

So I learned: a parent lying in the living room with a washcloth over her face is just a piece of furniture, and lots of moms get headaches. And over the years I ate many good meals (their specialty was breakfast) prepared by these two girls.

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