I’m still sick. Now when I say I’m sick, I’m fully aware that I’m not REALLY sick, like some people are, and I am very grateful for my overall health (ever since my Mom died I appreciate it a little more, every day). But that doesn’t stop a certain amount of feeling sorry for myself as I blow my nose for the twelfth time in the day, or cough up what seems like a never-ending supply of phlegm from my lungs.
Common colds are annoying enough when you’re twenty, only need to worry about where your next drink is coming from and can cuddle under the duvet the whole day with comfort food and some DVDs. You tell your boss you’re ill, you take some medicine and then you get better, usually quite quickly. This is not the case when you’re a parent.
Bedrest with a warm cup of Med-Lemon while someone brings you snacks and plumps up your pillows? Not so much. Toddlers don’t understand that their Mom needs to stay in bed a bit longer than usual. To them this is not acceptable. Who’s going to feed them breakfast? And make their cereal just the way they like it? And find their favourite shoes to wear to school? They get generally annoyed by this change in routine which usually results in some screaming and Mom having to drag herself out of bed and around the house, as she rests her feverish head against any cool surface she can find.
At least I’ve identified the specific lurgy I’ve got. I like to call it: The Start of the Year Nasty. Take twenty very cute (but very germ riddled) toddlers, through them together after a long school holiday and watch as they all happily swap germs at school and take them home to their unsuspecting families. It happens every year so I should have been more prepared. But the worst part? I’m 29 weeks pregnant so I can’t even take any drugs. Colds tend to linger when you can’t take anything other than Panado, which explains why I’ve had this delightful strain for two weeks now.
I can picture how it works. I’m throwing all manner of vitamins and fruit and vegetables at my body, willing it to bounce back and the gorgeous little leech inside me is thriving, sucking up all these delightful nutrients, leaving me with not very much at all. Thanks a lot bud – if you weren’t so cute (according to our recent 3D scan), I’d be a bit crosser. In the meantime, please pass me the tissues and lots of sympathy. Sniff sniff.