Funny Guy Friday... What about me?

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     What a week.
     Noah and Matthew had the flu. Both got hit hard. Fevers over 100 degrees for several days, bleary eyes, lethargy, fatigue, and coughs to beat the band. Both boys stayed in bed for most of the days and rarely came downstairs.
     But this isn't about them, it is about me.
     When Matthew gets sick, it is kind of a boon to me. I don't have to run up to his school to pick him up. I don't have to take him to his practices. And I don't have to escort him to his various social activities. You might even say that my life gets a lot easier when Matthew gets sick.
     But Noah, he is a different animal. I don't want to sound selfish or anything, but I haven't eaten a decent meal since the little guy went down.
     Noah took an interest in cooking about a year ago. He started out trying different recipes here and there, but now he makes dinner four or five nights a week. Not just your everyday ordinary meal, but foods like manicotti, lasagna, bang bang coconut shrimp, twice-baked potatoes, chicken cacciatore, scallops with buerre blanc sauce (I don't even know what that is... but it is good), spaghetti and meatballs, chili, roasts, steaks... and his pork dish with sauerkraut and beer with dumplings? It's to die for.
     Did I mention his desserts? Apple Pie, Apple Crostata, Baklava, Tiramisu... and he can whip up a mean milkshake on a moment's notice.
     But there he was... sick... each day... taking his temperature, coughing, wheezing and sleeping while I was going hungry. Cheryl was running up and down the steps and seeing what Noah needed! (For full effect, say that last line in an overprotective, nasally kind of voice).
     I love my wife and everything, but there are times when she only thinks about herself.
     What about me?
     Who is making my dinner? I typically forgo breakfast, and since Lent started, I only eat soup or salads for lunch. Dinner has become more important to me now than at any other point in my life. Coming home and seeing what Noah is making for dinner is like Christmas morning every evening. Sometimes it is like getting a new bike... sometimes it is like getting a frisbee... and sometimes it is like getting new clothes... But it's always delicious!!!
     But not this week.
     No... this week I got Wendy's burgers, Chinese food, and Ledo's pizza. That food is good, but is not Christmas morning... that food is like Columbus Day. You know, it is kind of nice to have the day off, but it doesn't really mean anything.
     And it is not as if Cheryl can't cook. It's just that... how can I say this without offending her?... Noah is better. And he enjoys doing it so much more than she. He loves the whole process of preparing and presenting his meals.
     Both yummy and aesthetically pleasing! What else could you ask for?
     I know... a kid/chef who isn't sick.
     Things started to break my way on Tuesday when, after a weeklong fever, Noah's temperature finally fell below 100 degrees. I argued that this constituted a full recovery, insisting that he could ease back into things with some French toast. Cheryl, of course, continued to rain on my little bit of sunshine and insisted that he was still sick and still has a terrible cough!  If he makes you dinner, you might get sick.
     That is a risk I am willing to take. Besides, he lies on my side of the bed... on my pillows... for seven days straight... and you never bat an eye... and now you are concerned that I might catch his cold? You Madam are jealous! 
     You, sir... are a total goofball! The boy is sick, and he is staying put... on your side of the bed... coughing on your pillows!    
     I thought to myself... when did she get a nursing degree? And am I ever going to get a Noah-cooked meal again?
     Wednesday, Noah was back to his old self with only a lingering cough. It was a cough that I could live with. Unfortunately, Cheryl had gone out for the afternoon, and there was a possibility that we were going to meet her out for dinner... so no food was prepared.
     Cheryl thought better of everyone going out to eat, so instead, brought home... you guessed it... Wendy's.
     After dinner, Noah pulled out a recipe for chicken pot pie. The planets were starting to re-align... and nothing was going to stop me... er... uh... I mean, Noah. Except... at 9:30, right before bedtime, I was advised that we were out of chicken.
     Not wanting to disappoint the lad, I made a late night trek out to the grocery store and saved the day. You know, as I write this, I think that Cheryl could learn a little bit about giving of herself by the example that I set.
     I am happy to report that the very next day we polished off a delicious chicken pot pie with the chicken that I purchased... made with Noah's signature homemade pie crust.
     All is good in the world... except that Matthew is feeling better too. Not that Matthew feeling better is a bad thing... I suppose. It is just that this isn't about Matthew... it is about me. And now that Matthew is feeling better, I have to start chauffeuring him all around town again.
     Oh well, God opens one door and he shuts another. At least I will be driving Matthew around on a full stomach.  
     Life is good!