Week three (last week) saw my eldest son Harry fall ill with swine flu, approximately five minutes before I was due to take William to his pretty crucial and long-awaited nephrologist appointment with the baby in tow while Matthew was going to take the other two children to school and then go on to work. It was all planned with military precision, lists prepared of who and what to drop where and with whom and who would pick up later at what predetermined time.
Then Harry appeared feverish and fluey.
I think this is where I am going wrong: when I plan, something unforeseen inevitably happens to cock it up. I should just chill a bit more. Then the gods wouldn’t be able to sit there saying, let’s see what will happen if we give her a fourth fever to deal with in three weeks on the most tricky day of the week – will she crack?
Nephrology appoinment accomplished and other various children back at home, I look after Harry who is not doing so well. (Although his behaviour is usually so bloody awful that I’m a little ashamed to admit that his illness is a respite for the rest of us and we carry on with an unusually calm – albeit housebound – version of normal family life.)
The gods are watching. Waiting.
On Wednesday evening he is clearly looking better but will still need a recuperative day off school. But I wake on Thursday with my throat feeling like it is on fire. I can barely speak. With all four boys misbehaving now their chief is back in the game, I am reduced to discliplining them with whispers.
It is an uncomfortable truth to realise that most of the noise in this busy, noisy household is made by me.
By the end of the day we are all (mostly) talking in whispers. It is amazing what a calming effect it has on everyone not to shout.
It is also amazing how searingly painful it is to have to shout at a really truly naughty boy when you have no voice.
By Thursday evening I feel cold and shivery and I call my husband and leave a message as he is in his daily crisis meeting with his US customer. Whether he could make out a single feverish croaked whisper I’ve no idea but it’s the last time we talk for several days, as I get all the children to bed, panic for a few minutes who is going to look after the children on Friday as Matthew has to be in the office (those pesky crisis customers) and then fall into a pig-shaped black hole of swine flu.
At least if the gods decided to throw swine flu at me, they gave it good and proper because there was no more fretting about who would look after the children: I was too ill to care. So I look on my five day fun with swine flu as a chance to, if not physically switch off because not even I could call swine flu a holiday, then mentally switch off from the constant job of parenting.
Everything has its positive side. Even swine flu.
Photo credit: dylancantwell
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
Poor you. But that is one way to get ‘rest.’ Glad you got to your hospital appt with the boy though.
When our 3rd had swine flu a few weeks ago he was also very calm. And we said that maybe this would be what it would be like to have Mac as a cool calm kid instead of his usual wild self….so I know exactly what you mean.
Hope all is getting back to norm…
Sounds miserable – but hope you are feeling better and mentally rested from your parenting ‘break’. Hope none of the rest of them get it either. x
Bloody hell woman – you really are a ‘glass half full’ kind of gal! That was an impresssivly optimistic post considering it involved so much pain and pestilence. Having read so many moany posts recently, I think you deserve a medal for your attitude!
Oh dear, I guess there is awlways a positive side!
Mumof4 – glad it’s not just me seeing the benefits of the calm side of being sick!
BIB – Thank you.
Dawn – I am so the least glass half full kind of person I know, so I think I make more of an effort to be positive!
AMM – got to stay positive or else I might cry!