The Pathetic Nature of a Grown Man... (with a cold)

Let me just say it out right: MEN. ARE. WIMPS.

Period.  No if's, and's or but's.

Jeremy woke up from his nap yesterday feeling stuffy and congested but made it through the rest of last night without a lick of trouble.   This morning?  Eeeeeh, not so much.

You'd think, with all the moaning, groaning, slow walking, face rubbing pitifullness he's showing, he too should be running a 104.4 degree fever.  Except, he's not.  Not even a little fever.  Not even a hint of fever.

You'd think, maybe he was up all night, coughing with such fervor we'd all have been awoken and felt woeful feelings for him.  Except, he didn't.  Not one cough.  Not a single clearing of the throat.

I stayed up ALL night with a hacking, snotting, sore throat feeling 3 year old.  I hovered over the burning hot, tear streaked face of my 6 year old.  The man has sinus congestion.

And not the kind that knocked me flat on my ass, either.  But then again, I'm also brewing another human being and given a normal bout of congestion, sans growing tape worm, I'm absolutely positive I would have made it through to the other side without the need of a marathon sleep.

And, yet, Jeremy?  Has gotten up long enough to help dress Lydia for church, detangle little girl's hair and climb back into bed.  Emerging from his darkened room just long enough, when the girls and I returned home, to snivel at us, his eyes half shut, 80 year old man hunched over kind of walk to prove that he is in deed, still alive.  Though just barely.

Forgive me if I feel a GIANT lack of sympathy.  But I've seen much worse in this last week with a much faster recovery time then the all day event he's going to pull.

It's like watching a 12 year old boy, putting on a show for his mother so maybe he won't have to go to school today.

Men.  They are so much more helpless then a new born baby.