I LOVE being a mum. My 17 month old son is the COOLEST human being I know. He makes me laugh all day long.
I’ve never regretted joining the motherhood. Even on the hard days when everything sucks, I still love it and would never want to go back.
Except for days like today.
You see, I’m dying. At least I’m pretty sure I am.
My head hurts, my throat hurts, my body hurts, my skin hurts. You know the kind of sick where someone touching your arm feels like razor blades?
My eyes are red-raw and weepy, my nose is blocked but also running (talented!) and I’m coughing up stuff that looks like it was made in a special effects makeup trailer.
I don’t get sick very often, but when I do, I do it well. Hayfever has morphed into something deadly. It’s serious guys.
I’m taking ALL the drugs and it’s not even touching the sides. I’m probably going to be dead tomorrow.
What I really need is to lie down, close my eyes and sleep for a couple of days. But I can’t. There’s no sick leave at my job.
Taking care of yourself isn’t possible for mums. There’s always someone who needs you more. So you just keep getting sicker until you collapse. And then, while you’re unconscious on the floor, in a puddle of your own vomit, your child will walk over, pry open your eyelids and whine “MUM!?” Because they need a cracker.
Thud is totally unimpressed with my illness. It means nothing to him. He doesn’t care about the hacking cough or raspy, breathless pleas for quiet. He’s JUST NOT BOVVERED.
So he’s skipping and laughing and climbing and destroying with abandon. And it makes me want to sell him on etsy.
He’s running at me like a WWE wrestler, taking flying leaps at my face and all I can think is “take your fun and games and GO AWAY. Can’t a woman die in peace FOR FUCK’S SAKE?!”
You heard me. The sight of his beautiful, delighted face is giving me the shits. Stop it with the gorgeous smile and cheeky dimples, little devil child!
The more aggro I get, the more hysterical he finds it. Cranky, sick mummy is apparently the funniest mummy of them all.
He starts roaring like a dinosaur and doing tiny adorable spins like a Tyrannosaurus ballerina. His Ballerinasaurus spins are my favourite. I literally squeal with the cuteness of it. Normally. But today I want him to spin off to some other room where I can’t see or hear him. Be gone with your cuteness!
STOP the adorable. STOP the funny. STOP the heartbreaking smile. STOP the sweet. STOP it before I cry!
He starts whining for some snacks. The walk to the pantry feels like the last walk I’ll ever take in my life. It takes THAT much energy.
Thud has a melt down because I give him a Cruskit when he clearly wants a Ritz. So I give him a Ritz, but it’s too late and he lies down on the pantry floor to scream and demonstrate his horror at my inadequacy.
GIVE ME STRENGTH.
I step over him and collapse on the lounge again so I can die to the sounds of my hysterical toddler.
He immediately bounces up off the floor with the energy and enthusiasm of a baby fox and leaps across the room, landing on my head. Apparently we need to cuddle. But not sit and cuddle; stand and cuddle. But I’m holding him all wrong and he starts breakdancing in my arms. It’s this super enjoyable game we play where he acts like he desperately wants to be put down, but the second his feet touch the floor he loses his mind completely until I pick him back up again. Does anybody know what this means? WHAT DOES HE WANT ME TO DO!?!?
Jesus Christ in heaven, I can’t deal with this right now.
It’s useless. I’m going to have to die another day.
I give a fleeting, nostalgic thought to those heady days of self-indulgent self-pity before Thud came along. Those days where I could sit and think about myself for HOURS at a time. Where I could wallow in the illness and be all “oh dear, my nose is running, best get a tissue so I can blow it, because wiping snot on your arm is SO undignified. Oh cough, oh cough. Quel dommage, life is so hard sometimes. Lying in bed and recovering is SO difficult! Perhaps I’ll watch some TV to cheer myself up.”
What a whiny wanker I was. Do you know how much I’d kill to have a clean tissue right now? Thud has stolen the tissue box and is gleefully ripping tissues out and scattering them about the house like confetti at mardi gras. No, wait, now he’s squashing them into the bowl of cat food. Excellent.
Please excuse me while I wipe my nose on my arm and drag my sore, sorry arse off the lounge so I can clean that up. Then make lunch. Then change the nappy. Then put a load of laundry on. Then play some more fun, fun games with the tiny dinosaur. Then have a cry. Then make dinner…..No time to die today!
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I totally understand. I was sick with gastro on Friday night, spent the night in the toilet and was absolutely exhausted. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and took myself to pole classes as I was booked as the instructor that day and couldn’t cancel. My husband, poor darling, at midday said he had a headache and didn’t feel right. Cue man flu! He was apparently dying and desperately needed sleep, despite the fact of sleeping 8 hours straight the night before. So I had no other option but to get up and take care of our 15 month old while he got some ‘much needed rest’.
No one comes to rescue poor mum do they. I laughed and then felt sorry for you and then laughed again! I have so been here before. Hope you’re feeling better soon. Xx
No one Bec! NO ONE!!! xxx
Oh you poor thing. I hope you are happy to know that your sense of humour, and witty writing, is very healthy despite you being in death’s throes. I reckon you will survive.
It’s touch and go Kathy…. I hope I make it to tomorrow.
Haha! This was very good. LOL’d a lot 🙂 xo
Exactly how I feel today, I feel your sickness! Love your post! There is nothing worse than being sick with a toddler, especially a toilet training toddler.
[…] Sick Mother fails at dying because child needs cracker… […]
Oh god. I just had some horrible flashbacks. They involved being slumped on the floor with snot pouring out of every orifice while my children use my unyielding form as playground equipment.
OMG! I was dying laughing so hard at this and most of your other blogs. Spot on! My little guy could be your son’s twin I’m pretty sure. Sending you a virtual hug from the state of Michigan 🙂 it’s so nice to see someone being honest (and hilarious at the same time) about the struggles we face as mothers. Can’t wait to read more of your experiences 🙂
Oh sure, laugh at the sick woman!! 😉 It is pretty funny in retrospect. But holy shit I was not enjoying life that day. These tiny people that we cherish and adore? They give ZERO shits about us. Oh, you’re dying mum? Could you do that later please because I need you right now….
[…] her post on putting her toddler on a leash (it’s not as bad as it sounds!!) or this one on being so sick but her gorgeous Thud refusing to let her die in peace. […]
One of the joys of being mother! Hope you are well on the way to recovery!
Hahahaha oh dear I am laughing so hard at this, with total sympathy of course. Especially the picking up/putting down wriggle dance they do. A favourite at our house and my 7 week old (#2) is already excellent at the synchronised arm/leg kick, interpretive dance has nothing on this kid!
Having just had my seven and a half year old get to a fabulous age where my life is almost back to vinos in the garden guilt free, we decided to have a baby! Obviously our little love bundle is adorable but there are some times when he is attached to my boob all day and night in a freezing frenzy where I sob for those vino garden days (okay not literally but close enough). See you in another seven!
I feel your pain!!! The first time I got sick after becoming a Mother was a HUGE shock to the system!! Plain and simple… it bloody sucks… Feel better soon and take solace in the fact that whilst you feel like you’re dying your words have put a smile on many a people. Jx