Something happens when you pop out a small human. Your life, as you well know, changes dramatically. You are suddenly so much more than you were before and the world seems to sparkles in a way you didn’t see before. Well, for about a week anyway.
When your child is ill, your heart breaks for them. It’s horrific, as you hate seeing them upset and unwell. They don’t understand what a cold is and why they are spewing up everywhere, and they rarely believe you when you say it will all be over soon. The snuggle up to you and you hold them, wishing you could take it all away form them and deal with it yourself.
And then the inevitable happens. You do end up catching whatever they have. The only difference is, they still have it! So whilst you are feeling like the walking pissing dead yourself, you are still the caregiver for your small child. Heaven forbid that Manthing gets it too, because suddenly you will be a parent to them, all whilst wondering who the F is going to come and make you feel better.
It seems that when you become a mother you are suddenly not allowed to be ill. Even if no one else in the house has got the lurgies yet, mama cannot stop. I tried it once, hiding in the bedroom. I informed Matt that he was in charge and that I was feeling rough. Go to bed, he said, I will handle it all. PAHAHAHA. Yeah, within 20mins I was awoken from my lemsip induced coma to find a nappy-bottomed toddler sitting on my face. When I called Matt to my aid I received very little help. Bugger.
The house grinds to a hault if I am ill. When I feel myself again I have to deal with the bedlam that is before me. Suddenly there is no food, no clean clothes and no loo roll. Which means I spend days on end getting my house straight again.
I am so not good when I am ill either. I get full on man flu, and to be honest I believe that a cold has gotten me close to death of numerous occasions. I also suffer from horrid migraines so sometimes it’s all I can do to haul my arse into bed and mope. But I simply cannot, because I just don’t have the time to be ill. I still have a house to run, a job to do and a small human to keep alive,I just do it all whilst warning people that I will infect them and that I am likely to drop dead at any moment.
When Matt is sick it goes on foreverrrrrr. I will admit that I have literally zero sympathy for him because he becomes a massive dying toddler about it. Hypocritical I know but meh who cares. He will wrap himself up in bed for days on end and call in to work like he has some deadly disease and cannot move through fear of death. He expects me to be kind and caring and I am so not. I couldn’t give a hoot, which is bad I know. I think I don’t care because I get jealous that he can just be ‘ill’. He doesn’t give a crap what else is going on at the time he is ill, he just puts his world on pause. So yeah, I’m jealous of the ability to do that. Jammy git.
I’ve heard plenty of other moms friends who feel the same, so I don’t feel that guilty about it. Though I would love a nice hot honey and lemon and a day of not thinking please!
Until next time …