Mums ill!

Mum's ill!!!

       Something that I dread is illness, it maybe very selfish but although I hate the children suffering, seeing their little noses glow and their eyes hang with deep circles, Or my husband lying on the sofa their painful moans tug at my heart strings. However the worst person to be ill by far is me, the mother. The reason for this is not because I can't cope with the pain, or because I get it worse than anyone else. I purely can't be ill, I am not allowed. Lets do a comparison......

   One of the children has a sickness bug. My poor baby has a high temperature and all they want is a cuddle. I hold them tight and when they fall off to sleep I frantically run around the house- hoovering, washing, dusting, cleaning bathrooms and preparing tea, all the usual daily chores. When I hear a moan from the sofa I rush to my babies aid. When they feel ready to eat I prepare a healthy, light meal of their choice brought to them on the sofa, creatively cut into a smiley face. A drink of very weak squash with a sparkly straw to cheer them up is presented. When my husband gets home, tea is cooking in the oven the house is tidy so I leave him to cuddle the poorly baby on the sofa while I take the dog for a quick sprint to wear her out.

  Oh lord, the husbands ill! He's still in bed when its time for work, I try to question if he's ok and receive a grunt which my well trained ears translate to "not well" and he disappears under the covers. The morning routine begins,a frantic rush of breakfast, hair and disappearing shoes. As I am in the middle of ripping apart the cupboard looking for a little black school shoe, heavy footsteps on the stairs can be heard, a sorrowful sigh escapes with every step. I glance around to see my husband wrapped in a dressing gown he never wears, his eyes barely open and the sides of his mouth so far down they are almost dragging on the floor.
"Are you ok?" A grunt escapes signally "no!" And he moves on slowly to the sofa. Ah I found it,  the shoe, a rush to put it on my youngest daughter. Just as I think we can leave for school my husband finds his voice.
"Can I have a coffee please?" I smile a 'of course', its not as though its time for me to take the kids to school. Couldn't he have waited ten minutes before he got up? I realise I am being mean, he's ill. I bring his coffee through just as I part my lips to tell the children it's time to go, my darling husband asks "can I have a blanket, I am cold." I zoom up the stairs- tripping a little and feeling embarrassed. I hand him the blanket and shoot out the words "time to go!" before he can ask anymore of me. He looks at me sadly "oh I was going to ask for some toast,"
"I will be back in ten minutes and I will make you some ok?," that's it we are out of the door.
    I spend the day doing the usual chores, and being called upon to perform various tasks for the patient. He spends the day on the sofa, ignoring the baby and watching various action movies. He doesn't sleep and thankfully isn't sick anymore, he manages a huge lunch of egg, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes, toast and beans. I leave to pick the children up from school. When I return the sofa is empty, the telly still on- Vin Diesel performing a car stunt. The spare duvet has been thrown to the corner, I check the bathroom, nothing. I go upstairs and see the shape of his body under our covers.
"Are you ok?" I ask
"I felt tired again thought I would have a nap," I say nothing. Convenient timing I can't help thinking. He emerges at tea time playful and very hungry. He declares he is feeling much better!

     A day later it begins, the children are asleep and a tummy ache is creeping in. I ignore it, no, I can't be ill. Throughout the night frequent visits to the bathroom confirm my worst fears, I have the sick bug. My husband asks if I am ok when my shuffling or loud toilet visit disturbs him. When morning arrives in the form of the children at 6am, the realisation dawns it is a school day. My husband is already up and getting ready for work. I drag my aching body out of bed to throw clothes on myself and the youngest two.
    My energy is minimal and my facial expression is set to frown! As I slowly make my way to the kitchen my husband asks
 "do you have a tummy ache? Are you cold? Do you feel sick?" When I confirm all of his questions he replies with "yep that's what I had, but I had it worse. Anyway I am off to work hope you feel better," and he's gone. My whole body sighs. I manage to prepare breakfast for everyone and divulge myself in some toilet time.
    When the eldest two are at school, the younger two and I get stuck into a duvet day. We watch movies and they eat a picnic of sandwiches in the living room. However mums can never have a complete duvet day, I struggle to put a load of washing on shoving it in the tumble dryer even though the sun is out. I rush the Hoover around after the picnic turns into a scattering of crumbs.
   With the children home and my husband back. Resentment has taken refuge in side my tummy, he asks "what's for tea?" Not how are you? Not even wow you hoovered! I spitefully spit "whatever you are cooking, I am off to bed!" Up I go slowly holding the banister as my temperature makes me dizzy. I peel back the covers and feel my body relax, I sleep for two hours until the kids bed time.
    I am awoken by my daughter standing over my head whispering over and over "mummy, mummy are you awake?" I grunt and open my eyes. She begins to whine
"Daddy's putting us to bed without a bath, I can't sleep without a bath! And Suzi tripped me up and he didn't tell her off, mummy will you read us a story?" I heave myself out of bed and read them a story and head straight back to bed. I sleep like a baby for the rest of the night.
    I wake up transformed, I am a new woman refreshed and ready for action. This is a good job because as I come skipping down the stairs I am faced with a dinning table still set for tea. Beans and egg splattered all over the wood. Chips strewn on the floor. I enter the kitchen pots and pans sit in the sink, everything seems to have been removed from the cupboards and placed on the work surface. The living room floor is strewn with toys, crisps and chocolate wrappers as well as coffee mugs. I decide not to thank my husband for letting me have an early night!