I need lots of sympathy today please. My house has the lurgy. And when I say my house, I mean me and my fella, but not the kids.
They had the lurgy, I nursed them back to health, then I got the lurgy from them. So now they are fine, bouncing off the walls and excited about Christmas presents, and I feel like I’m dying.
My other half still has to work, and although he is sick too, I would pay to be at work rather than on child care duty right now.
Parenting while sick is horrendous. Every parent knows it. If you’re a new parent and haven’t gone through it yet, be afraid, be very afraid. You thought looking after kids was hard before? Doing it while throwing up and barely being able to limp to the kitchen to get them more juice is like parenting on extreme mode.
And the worse you feel, the more they seem to need from you. It’s like when your resilience drops their ability to do anything independently evaporates.
“Mum I want you to play with me”
“Mum I want another snack”
“Mum I want your attention”
“Mum I want your SOUL”
Ugh… can you tell I’m not feeling it today? 😂🤧🤢
Just Survive, The Rest Can Wait
I’ve been through this enough times to know: the golden rule when you’re parenting while sick is just to survive. Everything else can wait.
So long as they have food, clean clothes (or at least clothes that don’t stink), and aren’t left on their own longer than it takes you to chuck your guts up in the toilet, you’re fine.
It’s oven meals and odd socks, inside out t-shirts and as much TV as they want. They can get a bit bored for a day or two, it’s good for their imaginations, and a couple of days of convenience food won’t hurt them. So don’t try to be a model Mum, just get through it.
As far as keeping them entertained goes, it’s not actually your job in the first place, although I, like millions of other parents, often feel like it is. I don’t know about your childhood, but when I wasn’t at dance class or something I was usually playing on my own in my bedroom.
These days, we have TVs, we have consoles, we have iPads, and about a gazillion toys that fill every corner of every piece of storage furniture in the house. Give them free rein. Dump a bunch of arts and crafts stuff on the table, get the board games down, and they know where the devices are – they’ll be fine.
Do only as many loads of washing as you actually need. The rest can wait. Use all of the cutlery and let the dishes pile up. Absolutely ignore the hoover except for in actual emergencies. Seriously, forget it even exists. You can blitz all this stuff when you’re feeling better.
Just survive the tough bit.
Dealing With The Guilt
This is just what you need when you already feel like death, but I get it every time.
Mum guilt.
I always feel like I am letting them down or not being tough enough. My rational brain tells me not to be silly, but my emotional brain tells me I am failing my kids.
It’s true that I’m not the energetic, patient, present Mum I usually am when I’m ill, but then, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? Who operates at 100% when they’re poorly? No one.
I snap at them and lose my temper more quickly, I ignore some of their never ending requests, I let the rules slide, I’m not fun, I feed them beige food. All of the stuff I usually try really hard to be good at disappears.
But I keep them safe, I keep them fed, and I keep them warm. The basics. I still manage the basics. When you’re on death’s door, managing the basics is winning if you ask me.
Oh, and I constantly apologise for not being myself, which probably isn’t a great message for them – you shouldn’t need to apologise for being sick – but I need them to know it’s not because I don’t care.
There’s a bigger lesson they are hopefully learning here, though. It’s that Mum is human just like them, and that she’s trying even though she’s finding things especially hard right now. I’m showing them that no one is perfect and that it’s ok, that some days are harder than others and we just have to do our best, and that the world doesn’t stop just because you get sick. I’m also slowly teaching them about empathy – even if my little girl’s idea of empathy is dropping a box of tissues on my face.
Now, can someone please pass me the washing up bowl, I think I’m going to throw up again…