In the grand scheme of things, someone is playing a practical joke. On me. On me specifically. I mean, how else do you explain the entirety of my household getting the flu? Hubby? Check. Biggest? Check. Littlest? Check. Me? Definitely check. All at the same time? You betcha!
Now, normally, when we get colds, the kids get it, then my hubby gets it, and when everyone else is done, I get it. It’s an arrangement that’s worked nicely for me for some time, as it means that I can be miserable because everyone else is over it and can function without me for a short time. This time, however, it’s being affectionately referred to as the Mom Flu.
Mom Flu – when the Mom is sick at the same time as the rest of the household and must soldier on to keep the house together.
So. Yesterday, I felt like crap. But I still got the dishes done, in between shivers. I got the laundry hung up, right after I downed Tylenol to pretend like I could function. And dinner got made, mainly because the burners were warm and I was freezing. My sister was kind enough to deliver some soup for me, which I’m about to have now. In the meantime, the house is an odd cacophony of Biggest’s dry cough, Littlest crying because he pooped (again) and my husband’s throat clearing. Add me trying not to fall over and snoring on the floor and we have quite the scene.
Honestly, I probably don’t need to have a Mom Flu. I could be miserable with the rest of the household (and don’t get me wrong, I am miserable), but I don’t feel like having a heap of housework to do once I’m better (although I’m sure my husband and I would probably tag team it). It’s hard to get better in a mess. Also, there’s only so many arrowroot cookies I can feed my children before I start feeling bad.
Speaking of which, I have to go feed the coughing hoard. *hack* *wheeze*