This weekend something horrible happened in our household. It started with a random public barfing session from my 18 month old son, in the middle of a museum hallway. What follows this, may not be for the queasy tummies. You have been warned.
The random barfing, continued during the day. Then started back up Saturday night. He barfed on at least 4 sets of pjs, 4 sets of sheets, and 4 sets of blankets. The next morning, I found barf on the crib, around the crib, and splattered on the wall. Then the diarrhea started…..
Fast forward to Sunday night. The baby had been doing better by now. Low appetite and diarrhea, but the vomiting had stopped. However, within 15 minutes of each other, my 6 year old daughter and I were co-barfing side by side. Thank goodness we have 2 bathrooms. If you had witnessed this, you would think we needed an exorcist. I was running to one bathroom, while she was just going at it all over the floor, hallway, walls, light switches etc. My husband was freaking out. That evening my daughter and I made camp in our bedroom. A pot by her side, and me running to the bathroom through out the night. It was not a pretty sight to see. I will leave it at that.
The next day, she was pretty much back to normal. However I was a different story. It took all day for me to be able to hold down food and water without wanting to die. My husband luckily stayed home from work to watch the kids, while I tried to lock myself in my bedroom. The moment I would come out of hiding, my husband figured I felt well enough to help with the laundry, participate in the parenting, and be a fully functioning parent. Which of course made no sense to me, and just caused us to argue about what it mean to be a nurturing partner.
In the mist of me wanting to give up on anything right and holy in this world. I was crouched over, worshiping the porcelain god, where once my family’s butt was pressed up against. Now it just felt like a wonderful cooling surface for my sweating, sagging face. How do you like that visual? Anyway, I came up with an epiphany… or maybe it was a hallucination.
Someone should create a facility, retreat, service, what-have-you, for moms to go to when they are sick. Picture this if you will…. You get sick, your husband is taking care of the kids, but who is taking care of you? (of course you are thinking: Well shouldn’t your husband be taking care of you? You would think….) Wouldn’t it be nice to go somewhere away from the house, where you can be cozy with TV, people bringing you anything you need when you ring a bell, hold your hair when you puke, clean up after you, no noise, no kids, food to drink of your choice, and just be left alone to heal?
Then, at the same time while this is all going down…. The same service would then bring hot meals to your family, sanitize the house from all the germs, do your laundry, and basically play the roll of the mom while you are off healing in paradise. I would pay large sums of money for this service.
But then I realized something…. I do have this service. It is called my mommy and daddy. I needed my own mommy and daddy to take care of me. If I could, I would have camped out at my parents house, let them take care of me, and then in return, they could then go take care of my family. They could take care of everything. Ok, that is a far stretch and way too much to ask for. However, my dad would come over in a heart beat and take care of me, clean my kitchen, fold my laundry, put a cool cloth over my head, and tell me everything would be ok, if I asked him to. But I am too proud, too “strong” (not really), to ask for help. Apparently in my mind, I can take care of everything on my own.
I still think a “mom sick service” would be a wonderful invention. Someday, you’ll see, it will catch on. Million dollar idea.