The hubs and I are sick.
And, man, it sucks.
Being sick on a regular day sucks, but it sucks harder when you’re a parent. And even harder when both parents are sick at the same time. It’s the suckiest.
Both of us have been coughing and sneezing and hacking and gagging that my toddler thinks this is a new game. Even though he’s still healthy (I have no idea how he hasn’t gotten our viral plague as of yet), he’s started fake coughing because he thinks it’s now the cool thing to do. If this goes on much longer, we’ll have given our son some sort of complex.
We’ve been cooped up for several days now, and I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out. Our produce is almost gone, we’ve dipped into my NyQuil reserves (this is not a joke), and we might be sick of each other.
As a SAHM and an introvert who is prone to self-isolation, the social commitments I make for my son and I each week are crucial to my sanity, and when one of us is sick, we can’t go talk to the other humans. And that makes mommy something-something. So the only silver lining is that, this week, my husband is home sick too. WOO! PLAGUE PARTY!! We can sneeze the Overture of 1812 better than Ferris Bueller’s keyboard. Seriously, it has been nice to have him home with us, because at least I don’t have to sick-parent a well-kid all by me onesie.
However, this situation has also given way to arguments over who is sicker, and thus who gets a free pass from parenting the not-sick, full-energy child. My partner may or may not have said that he’s so sick that he’s not at work and deserves a break. And I may or may not have said that I AM STILL AT WORK EVEN THOUGH I AM SICK AND I DESERVE TO POOP ALONE. And then we agreed to disagree after the argument devolved into a mutual coughing fit.
In related illness news: I discovered that I can now hit Adele’s sexy, sexy low notes. I’d better get this down in the studio before my immune system decides to wake the fuck up. Also, after visually confirming that my voice wasn’t coming from a would-be creepy male kidnapper, the hubs told me that I should start a late night sexy-talk line (that’s what they’re called, right?) and use the alias Bernice in order to earn a little extra cash. You know, for our kid’s college fund. Or so I can buy some more NyQuil.