I complain about a lot of things when it comes to parenting and kids, but one of the worst things is sickness. UGH, just writing that word irritates me.
Of course, no one enjoys being sick, but being sick as a parent is a whole new ballgame. It doesn’t matter how crappy you feel or how much you want to crawl into a ball on the couch and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. That isn’t an option anymore. Instead, you must dig down into the deepest depths of your soul to find even the smallest amount of energy possible to get through the day. Because your kids need to be fed and watered. They need to be potty trained. They need to be entertained and engaged. They need clean clothes and dishes. They need someone to open that 1,573 bag of fruit snacks. They need to be held and cuddled. They need to be bathed and put to bed.
Yes, if your kids are anything like mine, they strive to make life an even greater hell when you’re not feeling well. And heaven forbid they play together nicely while I lay on the couch. Nope. It’s unacceptable that I in any way deem myself worthy of a nap or even a quiet rest in front of the TV. In fact, their needs increase tenfold when I’m under the weather. They don’t just need one glass of water. Nope. They need 15 glasses of water, in the space of five minutes. They don’t want that grilled cheese, for which just 10 minutes earlier they had been begging. Nope. Now they want pasta. They don’t just need to do one bowel movement. Nope. Now they have to go two or three times in the space of a day, and they even manage to time it so they are both on the potty at the same time! Oh yeah, it’s good times being a parent when you’re sick.
You would think I’d be used to it by now. Both of my kids caught RSV-pneumonia as babies and ended up admitted to the hospital (I will save that story for another post). And ever since then, if there is a virus to be caught, my kids will catch it. Every. Single. Time. It doesn’t matter what efforts I take to prevent it. They are and always have been prone to sickness. And I’m not talking about a quick cold here or there that lasts a few days. When my kids get sick, whether it’s a runny nose or a hacking cough, it lingers for weeks and weeks and often requires a nebulizer. And then, of course, it works its way around our whole house and we end up passing it back and forth, like a hot potato.
Last year around this time I caught a cold from my kids that turned into two months straight of sickness and ended with a flu diagnosis. That’s right. Not only was I sick for the holidays, but I got to cap it all off with a week of being quarantined in my bedroom, waving to my kids and husband from afar. I even had to miss my daughter’s 4th birthday. Now, if you’re a parent—especially a mom—you’re probably sitting there asking yourself, “wait a minute, is she suggesting this wasn’t the greatest thing since sliced bread?” And you’d be right!
I feel bad saying it, and maybe you think I’m horrible for admitting it, but that week with the flu was like a vacation for me. I got to lay quietly in my bed, being fussed and fawned over by my husband, and didn’t have to worry about all the crap that comes with being a parent. I didn’t have to clean. I didn’t have to cook. I didn’t have to deal with potty training. I didn’t have to act as referee between my children. I didn’t have to deal with bath or bedtime. I didn’t have to sacrifice myself in order to care for someone else. I just laid there, binge-watched “Gilmore Girls,” and rested. And let me tell you, it was glorious! I didn’t even feel guilty as I listened to my husband handle his business—which he did 110% (oh yeah, he’s a rockstar). As much as I loved my staycation, though—and boy could I use another one! —I will do everything in my power to avoid sickness like the plague.
Whenever this time of year rolls around, I become a nervous Nellie and turn into one of those neurotic, paranoid, germaphobe parents. I stock up on elderberry syrup, Vitamin C, zinc, echinacea, turmeric & ginger, honey, lemons. I bring out my diffuser and essential oils. I start Lysoling the hell out of the house (before you judge, I use a plant-based version of Lysol). I open every window to change out our air—even on the coldest of days. I swap out our bed sheets like a maniac. I whip up giant batches of homemade chicken soup. You name the preventative measure and chances are I’ve done it. I just can’t help myself. That’s how much I’ve come to dread sickness.
And yet, despite these valiant efforts, I find myself sick once again. I spent the past week taking care of sick children, drowning in snot, mucus, and all sorts of germs. I know what you’re thinking: TMI lady. But this is the reality. Now, my kids are feeling better and I’m the one dragging my feet, coughing, sneezing, head pounding, throat hurting. I barely have the energy to sit here and type, but I’m doing it anyways. Just like I’m going to get up to cook and clean and play and bathe and take care of my kids.
Because this is what I signed on for. Because I’m a parent now and no matter what, my kids must always come first.