By Sandy Egan
Every winter, I dread what may come in terms of the various viruses and bacteria that kids swap with one another at school. Whether it’s a minor cold, ear infection, or the flu, my ears perk up whenever I hear “something is going around the school.” A couple of weeks ago my daughter came home for one week straight, telling me how her classmates (who are on the top floor) kept track of how many times a younger child on the lower floors vomited in their classroom. It was by how many times the poor janitor was paged on the intercom.
I dreaded her coming home with the virus, because for me it is the worst type of illness to cope with in a child. Thankfully, my children are older now and can contain themselves enough to reach the bathroom if they are sick, but when they were little it was pretty awful. I remember I’d hear them jump out of bed in the middle of the night, sprint past the bathroom and run into my room to tell me they felt sick. And then vomit on my rug, bed, me, or all three. Cleaning up such a thing in the middle of the night is no fun; the sheet changing, the rug scrubbing and sometimes bath time would be necessary in order to set things right again. I’d never get back to sleep for the night because I’d watch them, to monitor a fever or comfort them back to sleep and to be ready with a bucket in case it happened again.
Colds, while less dramatic, often turned into ear infections, which for my son meant almost monthly trips to the doctor between October and April. To give antibiotic or not. To put in tubes or not. High fevers at times, sometimes scary high. Strange rashes that the doctor did not identify as anything specific, such as chicken pox or measles, but nonetheless definite spots. After dragging your exhausted child to the pediatrician, you are told that the rash is “idiopathic” (doctor-speak for “I don’t know”) and to have the child rest. Over Christmas, I did envy some of my friends who still had kids young enough to believe in Santa, but other than that, I am very glad those days are behind us.
Some will say that having a sick husband is worse than having sick kids. In some ways it is, in others it’s easier. Being a mother makes you want to coddle and fuss over them, but mine abhors coddling, refuses to see a doctor unless he’s at death’s door and, while refusing to be taken care of, complains about how miserable he is. Still, it is merely different and not the worst part of sickness in the wintertime.
The worst, by far, is when I (Mom) get sick.
I was supposed to post something about a week ago, but since I was physically unable to do much more than lie in bed and use the bathroom, I wasn’t able to post, much less anything else. Not only did I get the fun virus my daughter kept talking about, it exhausted me and also made it very difficult to eat, drink, or sleep. This feeling lasted about seven days, which made it practically impossible for me to do anything around the house. The automatic house cleaner was broken. Dishes piled up in the sink. The cupboards and refrigerator were empty. Take-out food was brought home (for everyone else, not me!). Clean laundry was a memory and dirty laundry collected in all corners of the house. After I recovered, I spent the next five days catching up with everything.
Of course today I woke up with a sore throat. Here we go again!
Time is a wonderful thing! Especially when you have some. As a working mom, I sometimes feel overwhelmed. Some days I feel like my job is never ending. I’ve decided that between 5pm and 8pm my cell phone and the TV are off completely. No TV, no checking work emails, no work calls, nothing but time with my boys.
