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0 of 3 Premium Clicks used this month SUBSCRIBE Print + Online Subscriber Activation | Register x Forgot Password | Need an Account? subscribe | newsletter | deals Classifieds Jobs Autos Real Estate FEATURED » NEWS NOW Guest Opinion: Water use at Southern Oregon University ... Herb Rothschild Jr.: Sharing our stories ... Guest Opinion: Guns: a down-under solution? ... Guest Opinion: Water use at Southern Oregon University ... Herb Rothschild Jr.: Sharing our stories ... Guest Opinion: Guns: a down-under solution? ... Lost in Suburbia: The fall of the house of Beckerman Comment DailyTidings.com Writer Posted Jan. 14, 2015 at 7:00 AM Posted Jan. 14, 2015 at 7:00 AM » Social News By Tracy Beckerman More Content Now It started with a sneeze. Just one. Which led my husband to declare, “I’m getting sick.” I looked at him dubiously. “Maybe it’s allergies,” I suggested. “No. When I have allergies, I sneeze twice. When I have dust or something in my nose, I sneeze three times. Once means I’m getting sick.” “It’s probably just a cold,” I assured him. “I’m not sure,” he said ominously. “It feels like it might be something more serious.” I stared blankly at him. I seriously had my doubts that he had anything more than a common cold. However, if past husband history was any indication, he would soon be diagnosing his symptoms on the Internet as something endemic to the Amazon (where we had never been) and, in a last ditch effort to avoid his inevitable, painful demise from said obscure illness, would send me tearing off to the supermarket to buy some eye of newt, toe of frog and chicken soup to cure him. Still, a man cold can be scary enough in it’s own right, so I decided to do what any wife would do in a similar circumstance. I left. It was partly to make sure I didn’t catch his cold, and partly to get away from the ensuing cataclysmic whine fest that was sure to follow. “How can you leave me at a time like this?” he demanded. “Self-preservation,” I replied. “Don’t worry. I left you plenty of cold medicine and tissues. I’m going to stay far away now so I don’t catch your cold.” My plan worked really well … for an hour. “You’re back!” he declared happily when I walked in the door later that day. “I’m sick,” I declared unhappily as I reached for a tissue. Now, the only thing worse than a husband with a severe case of Amazonian Spotted Jungle Fever (aka, a man cold) is a wife with a cold at the same time. And the only thing worse than a husband with a man cold and a wife with a regular cold, is the news that, “I think I’m getting sick,” groaned my daughter, sneezing to punctuate her statement. “I think we’ll need some more eye of newt,” said my husband. I groaned inwardly. There was no way I was going to be able to take care of one mildly sick family member and one family member in the throes of a man cold while I was sick, too. Sadly, I’d been on this mucus train before. When the kids were little, they’d bring home all kinds of viruses from the little germ terrorists in their classrooms. And before you could say, “Sudafed,” the whole house would be sick and I’d be trying to figure out a way to escape to an island resort where my biggest concern would be what color umbrella to get in my fruity tropical drink. However, I decided that this time it would be different. This time there would be no whining. This time no one was going to be allowed to call the CDC and request a decontamination unit. This time I would guide my family back to health with no drama, no hysterics, and no declarations of the healing properties of lizard tongue from New Guinea. “It’s OK,” I declared. “I’ve got this!” And then the dog sneezed. Become a fan of Lost in Suburbia on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LostinSuburbiaFanPage. DailyTidings.com Writer Posted Jan. 14, 2015 at 7:00 AM » Comment or view comments Reader Reaction » STAY INFORMED Email NewsLetter Sign Up Today Sign up for our newsletter and have the top headlines from your community delivered right to your inbox. Southern Oregon Directory Featured Businesses Loading... 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