DISCLAIMER: Despite what you may read in the following, I love my kids. I really, really do.
However, since having the boys, it has become somewhat *ahem* PROBLEMATIC when illness hits the household. Here’s what happens:
Child number 1 (otherwise known as “Patient Zero”) comes down with illness. If it’s one of the boys, inevitably, they will run a fever.
Child number 2 and 3 will go on with their lives, playing happily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that their sibling is ill. This goes on for 3 or 4 days.
Right about the time Patient Zero’s fever breaks, child number 2 will fall ill. More fever. Repeat 3-4 day illness cycle.
If we’re REALLY REALLY LUCKY, Bear and her awesome 5 year old immune system will not run a fever. If we are less lucky, child 3 falls ill.
If you are one of those number crunching, accounting types, at this point you are probably realizing that there are a few problems with this scenario:
1. Both parents in this household work full time. Both parents have limited amounts of leave.
2. One parent in this household has a somewhat difficult time getting off of work to stay home with the sick children
3. The other parent that can typically get off of work a bit more easily then stresses about the fact that she is not at work and is putting more pressure on her coworkers to pick up her slack
On top of that, here’s an idea of how the nuts and bolts of my days have gone so far this week – let’s use today as an example, shall we?
Get up with kids. At least one is cranky and whining. Feed breakfast. At least one complains. Mr. R throws food. Clean up Mr. R. Put kids in car to take Bear to daycare and preschool. Following trip to deliver Bear , I am basically pinned to the sofa with a feverish boy who wants to be held. Boy basically feels like an overheated hot water bottle. Other boy grows jealous, and tries to climb on me/his brother/the 3 square inches of free sofa space. Most of the morning is spent in a somewhat uncomfortable pile of sick boys, watching Alvin and the Chipmunks for the 20th time. One boy continues to throw things. That boy spends some quality time in time out. He sounds exceptionally pitiful because he is losing his voice from being sick. 5 minutes after being sprung from time out, he throws something again. He goes back into time out. He sounds even more pitiful.
Serve lunch. At least one child complains. Mr. R throws food. Mr. R rubs food on his hair. Mr. R cries and screams when he is removed from the table.
More sweaty feverish boy lying on Mommy. More throwing of things.
Naptime. Q Man’s ibuprofen does not kick in for a good hour and a half, so he does not sleep. He wants to have his back rubbed. He wants to have his head rubbed. He wants a drink. He wants to watch Super Why.
Mr. R wakes up from nap. Mr. R throws things (you knew that was coming, right???). More time out.
Snack. No one complains. Mommy is shocked. Mommy works on work emails. Boys begin fighting, at which point Mommy decides that Q Man must be feeling a little better.
Daddy arrives home. Mommy feels like dancing a jig. BACKUP HAS ARRIVED.
(side note: Q Man’s rally did not last, and was most likely ibuprofen induced. Still feverish.)
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Daddy is on duty tomorrow. I have never been so happy to go to work in my whole life.