Last week, for the first time in the 16 months the boys have been here, I got sick. Not sniffles or headache sick, but completely out of commission. Only, I quickly realized, I couldn’t be out of commission. In the next 48 hours, in addition to realizing the one crucial perk my job doesn’t have – sick days, I discovered that toddlers are possibly the world’s worse nurses, for many reasons.
They steal your blankets. I had the chills, and my boys thought it was a hoot to grab and run away with anything I tried to cover myself with.
They still eat. I had to psych myself up to eat a Popsicle, but I still had to jump through the usual hoops to make my picky eaters eat something.
They still stink. Not all the time of course, but a full diaper is not a friend to a queasy changer.
When did they get so heavy?
What germs? Worse than me being sick would be getting them sick. However, I have very snuggly nuggets, and it was very hard to discourage their “advances”.
What naps? Enough said.
Eventually, on the third day, I conceded to letting them spend the day at their dad’s office, where they went into overdrive working their charm. My initial protests quickly turned into some Duggar-fueled couch time, and I was on the road to recovery.
The lesson? Accept help as soon as you need it, and avoid the false sense that you’ve got this parenting thing down, because the next thing you know, you may be knocked off your feet. Or someone learns how to climb on the couch. Gotta go.