I thought this winter would be our family’s jackpot season—no sickness, no drama, just cozy vibes. Oh, how naïve of me. 😶 Instead, my husband got bitten by a dog and caught Influenza A. Like, seriously? Was there a “worst timing” raffle I didn’t know about? And to top it off—we’re moving houses. Because nothing says “fun” like cardboard boxes, germs, and chaos all at once.
Thankfully, I got my flu shot. At least I have some protection while I play nurse, cleaner, chef, and referee. Because let’s be honest: once one person in the house gets sick, it’s like dominoes. Knock on wood!
Men vs. Women: The Great Sick-Off
Here’s the thing about most husbands and the flu: they act like it’s the end of civilisation. (I said MOST husbands, not all men). He’s on the couch, tissues everywhere, groaning like an extra in a medical drama. 🙄Meanwhile, when moms get sick? We’re still making lunches, folding laundry, and holding a baby on one hip.💪💪💪
Case in point: I endured 20 hours of labor with an epidural that didn’t even work. (Thanks for nothing, anesthesia!) I lost a liter of blood, was vomiting while pushing, and had postpartum preeclampsia on top of it all. Did I quit? Nope. I powered through like a warrior queen. If “suffering while multitasking” were an Olympic sport, moms would take gold every time.😉🥇🎖️
The Light of the Home (AKA: No Sick Days Allowed)
My daily prayer is simple:🙏 Lord, let me be tired, let me be achy, but please don’t let me be sick. Because when the light of the home (a.k.a. Mom) goes out, the house doesn’t just get dark—it gets dirty, chaotic, and smells suspiciously like despair.
For now, I’ll give my poor husband a pass. Yes, he looks miserable, okay, fine—he does have the flu. I’ll save the eye-rolling for later.
Dear Fellow Moms💕💕💕
To all my fellow moms out there: keep fighting, keep laughing, and don’t you dare back down. Take care of yourself, because you are the one holding it all together—even when it feels like everything is falling apart.
If you can bring a tiny human into this world while bleeding, puking, and screaming, then trust me—you can survive the flu season, a dog bite, and a mountain of moving boxes.
We don’t get sick days, but we sure do get bragging rights. 💪😂
