The Absolute Worst Part Of Being A Parent To A ToddlerNaomi Odes
My last post on Friday detailed Fuzz’s latest illness: Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. I felt so bad for him because he seemed to be in pain and he was obviously not feeling well.
My sympathy turned to empathy about 36 hours ago, when I started developing my own symptoms of this disease. Many of the readers’ comments told me this might happen.
Around 9:30 on Saturday night, I started to feel feverish and a little achey. I took ibuprofen and powered through a Netflix movie. So, I didn’t go to bed until almost midnight.
Remember back before you had kids, when you could go to bed at midnight on a Saturday night, even when you were feeling just a little sick? It didn’t matter, because the next day was Sunday and you didn’t have to get up early?
I miss those days.
At 6am, when Fuzz woke up, I got up with him since my husband dealt with his night wakings- (yes, he still wakes up most nights, even though I’m not nursing anymore).
We went to the kitchen where I began to fix his breakfast. It was there that I noticed that I still had the feverish feeling, and it seemed to be getting worse. I fed Fuzz his bananas and cinnamon, and then Shnook his cereal once he woke up. Then, we all piled on the couch where I turned on Winnie the Pooh. (Another of my parenting ‘rules’ broken, more on that another time). Both boys were snuggled up with me and I couldn’t even enjoy it, I was shivering with fever.
But, I decided I needed to make it just a little longer. Life doesn’t stop for toddlers when a parent gets sick. They still ask you for snacks every 3 minutes, they still need their butts wiped and their naps and someone to keep them from injuring themselves. They need you. Ever since I had kids, I’ve dreaded getting sick, because I know that it’s the most awful thing in the world now that I’m a parent. I remember whining with illness before I had kids. I laugh at those moments. What luxury to be able to whine and sit alone under the covers without anyone needing anything!
Anyway, my martyrdom didn’t last very long. At 7:30, I waved my white flag. I got my husband out of bed and got into it. And there I remained ALL DAY. I slept as much as I could, but I mostly just felt like poop, despite successive rounds of ibuprofen.
I could hear my husband working hard to keep two active boys occupied all day. They went on a lot of “scursies” or excursions: the local airport to watch the prop planes and small jets, the coffee place where they consumed way too much chocolate milk, and the playground. They even went to Trader Joe’s for groceries. There were lots of train track projects, some outdoor screams of delight, a few too many indoor screams of dissatisfaction, too.
By 5pm, I was able to drag myself out of bed while they ate dinner. I mustered the energy to draw a bath for them, although I didn’t actually bathe them. I helped put Shnook to bed- thankfully, he gave me no trouble at all and went right to sleep- I’m hoping it was because he was exhausted and not because he’s getting these cooties.
This morning it was a similar situation. The disease has progressed to the next phase where my throat looks and feels like an explosive mine field. Now that I know what Fuzz felt like on this day, my heart goes out to him even more. This disease sucks!
But I can’t spend all day in bed, today, as much as I want and probably need to do so. There’s work to be done. More breakfasts and lunch to be made, laundry to do, posts to write, bills to pay. My full day sick pass is officially over.
How do you handle it when you’re sick?
Photo via Flickr