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Mommy Talk
Sickos, brought to you by the rhinovirus
Posted by:
Janine Anderson on
October 22, 2008 at
10:33AM CST
There are a lot of things I was completely unprepared for as a parent.
I didn't fully understand exactly how many times a newborn needed to be changed, or how quickly it would feel like Henry had always been a part of our lives, or the joy that would come with watching him grow. But one of the biggest surprises? How often kids bring colds home with them. In the almost-year since we've had Henry there have been more illnesses in this house than in the previous five years combined. I swear. Babies are far better equipped for virus-management than we adults. Sure, our immune systems are better, and today, I'm feeling just about back to normal after about four days of ick while Henry's coughing his way through day 10 of the cold that never ends. But Sunday night, when I had just about lost my voice from coughing and Monday morning, when I was so plugged up I couldn't breathe or hear, I was miserable. I wanted soup, grilled cheese, bad movies on TV and ice cream. I wanted to be left alone to wallow in my misery while not moving a muscle. Henry, with the kind of constantly running nose that only seems to affect kids under the age of 4, was still full of energy. Crawling all over, discovering new toys, pulling himself up on things. Sure, he took longer naps that normal, but when he was awake, he was pretty much the same Henry that he is when he doesn't have a runny nose. Not me. I grumbled about doing the laundry, about how he was able to play and how I had to keep on watching him. I felt guilty about turning the TV on when he was in the room. There's really no way to rest when you've got a free-range 11-month-old. Even when he’s napping, I’m listening for the sounds of a too-strong baby cough. On Monday, when I decided to stay home from work, I kept Henry home, too. I wasn't going to send him to day care while I stayed home to rest. That's not any more fair than me coming to work bleary-eyed, sneezing, coughing and blowing my nose every five minutes. So we were sick together. We cuddled, we played. I folded laundry and Henry crawled over the piles messing things up. We discovered some new games. Henry loves to knock over baby puzzle pieces. He’s thrilled with a big plastic dump truck. I loved that they were far less energy-intensive activities than chasing him around the house saying “I’m gonna get you!” Not that the get-you game isn’t fun. It’s just not my favorite thing when it means I have to mop the floor afterward to catch all the virus he left behind. Or when the act of crawling after him makes me start coughing. I was grateful that I’d made a big pot of soup over the weekend when I needed to bring lunch to a friend. Instead of a single-serving of deliciousness, I had the perfect thing to buoy me through several nights where I was by myself, sick, and trying to take care of the baby. I was even more grateful when a friend offered to bring dinner over. I shouldn’t have turned her down, even though the veggie soup was in the refrigerator. I’ve learned my lesson. Next time, soup buddy, next time. And, while I can complain endlessly about being sick that day (Oh, poor me, I’ve got a cold. Who doesn’t, this time of year?), it wasn't all bad. I got extra time with runny-nosed, coughing, still-smiling Henry. A three-day weekend sponsored by Kleenex.
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