I woke up on Saturday morning feeling bleugh. A fuzzy taste in my mouth, a nose of acidic snot and eyes weighed down against the world. Like I said, bleugh.
Noodles had had a streaming cold for the past few days too mind, so it was hardly surprising. Not that it had stopped him. He’d still been as Tigger-esque as ever, bouncing on any available flat springy surface and also my sadly not flat but definitely springy stomach. And when I’d whispered to Boo that I was going to let him have a day off from nursery he sat bolt upright in bed and then attached himself like my shadow wailing at the thought of missing out until I had very definitely taken him to nursery. (And to think they suggested he might not be able to hear so well because he has a propensity for waxy ears! No. More like he has the early onset of man-hearing whereby he only hears what he wants to. His poor future wife.)
But, anyway, funnily enough, cuddling up to and wiping down a child covered in contagious bodily fluids had rendered me poorly too. I had very definitely lost any urge to bounce however and was relieved when Boo’s dance classes were cancelled. Instead I cleaned the house and then cleaned myself and had a friend and her kids round for a play date.
The only concession I made for my cold was bailing out of a birthday party. I so badly wanted to go, but my body just wasn’t up for it.
Unfortunately, around the same time I also got a text from Teflon Man. He’d been out on a football jaunt all day, but was feeling less than brilliant himself:
Hmm. Today was clearly going to be interesting: Man cold vs Mum cold.
It seems that kids have no respect for either. First thing Boo had us up for a game of Treasure Hunt. I’m not sure what was harder, chasing around the house trying to fathom the cryptic clues of a 7-year-old’s mind or making them up myself. Still, Teflon Man was dragged into it too and was clearly suffering. So it didn’t really please him when the game had mostly blown over by the time he came up with his own clues.
From then on he pretty much took to bed. Facebook browsing was obviously less taxing than spending time with the kids or visiting his mum.
Meanwhile, I did three rounds of washing and went into town to run errands (ok, I got some refunds on some clothes I’d bought in haste and instantly regretted, got a FREE t-shirt in Monsoon and a fiver off my mascara in Debenhams – you’ve got to love a reward card!) and did the food shop. I prepped all the bags for the week (work, school, swimming kit, PE kit, Brownie uniform) and packed Boo’s lunch for the morning. I cooked a roast dinner, albeit a parred down one because TM wasn’t up for a big meal, poor love. I oversaw Boo’s homework and got her bathed. (I had less luck with Noodles who refused to get clean, but I didn’t have the energy to negotiate/cajole/fight tonight). I got them to clean their teeth and eventually settle down (after a mass of fidgets and flailing from Noodles).
All day I flicked mental v-signs at Teflon Man for getting away with sitting on his backside suffering.
‘Oh, I feel rubbish,’ he wailed at one point. ‘But you don’t seem as bad as me.’
‘No, that’s because I popped a Sudofed and slathered myself in Vicks last night.’
(And because I had no choice but to just crack on. It’s a cold, after all – it’s not Ebola.)
At which point he pinched one of my Sudofed…and then went back to bed. Which seemed unfair. If you’re going to pinch my drugs then at least also get off your arse. Surely it’s just rude to have your cake and eat it?
Heaven only knows how he’ll fare tomorrow. I’m going to put my money on a late get-up and minimal input. So I guess I’ll be going the school run, putting in a full day at work, going to Boo’s parents evening and sorting out the evening meal.
And to think it’s International Women’s Day! How far we’ve come: so women can now work BOTH in the home AND out of it…which just seems to let the men off the hook. I’m not quite sure that that was the plan.
Still, at least we now have the opportunity to earn the cash to buy the Sudofed. I suppose it’s progress of sorts.