Who let the bug in?

When you have children, weekends become "together time." Expectations are high. People want to go outside, skate, play in the snow, build a fort, and have fun. I had my kids late in life and keeping up with them can be a challenge. Being tired is an integral part of being a parent and member of the labour force, and juggling your children, a job and relationship is a fine balance indeed. Mothers are people who have to recognize signs and make informed decisions even...for themselves.

So when you've gone to the gym, done the shopping, taken the kids to the park and then start to see yellow and blue spots, you might first come to the realization that you're tired. Never mind! Tired is for wussies. Mind over matter! But then you start to see stars, and think "Oh, maybe I should eat something instead of drinking more coffee." Then there's a chill in the air. It's bone-chillingly cold outside, but all the windows are shut. Hmmm...Your daughter has complained during the day of stomach cramps, but they seem to have gone away. Now she looks right as rain.

Then out of nowhere, something strange happens. You have a knot in your stomach, which starts to constrict. There's pressure that you can't immediately explain. You go down the mental checklist: coffee, exercise, food poisoning, and as the pain increases, you start to ignore your daughter's questions because you can't seem to focus on what she is saying and wish that she'd just speak English instead of French. There's a temperature shift. You suddenly feel hot, and the Christmas tree (Yes, it's still up. No one's perfect!) starts to blur. The reflective decorations have increasingly long streaks of light running through them. Just when you think to yourself, "God, that tree is hideous!" your brain stops processing, you're close to an answer. There's a short replay of a clue from late Friday afternoon.

As the daycare specialist cheerily hands you your son, she says, "Oh, and by the way, he vomited today. Not a lot. Nothing to worry about!"

As I sprint down the hall holding my stomach, I know that I have a bug. But not just any bug. It's a bug from the daycare. As I reach the bathroom door, I think, "Oh, any time but now. Why me?" Not realizing how lucky I am.

The bug is just gathering momentum, and the real victim will be my husband, who gets it twice as bad 12 hours later.


Post a Comment