Recently I’ve been living in a house of sickness. Nothing life threatening, just your every day, run of the mill, head cold/cough/snot-fest.
It did the rounds, with each child suffering through with the usual demanding-ness of a sick child. You know, lazing around on the couch and yelling for stuff 24/7.
Then my husband got sick and I was all sympathetic…still. Even though deep down I was pretty much empty in the sympathy tank. I made soup, I frequented the chemist, I kept the kids busy and occupied so that he could sleep.
But then I got sick. And nobody cared. No. One.
Yeah I know what you’re thinking, poor old Erin feeling sorry for herself. But I had to, because no one else would.
There was no day time nap for me. No hardcore cold and flu medicine I could take, thanks to my current pregnant state. No one making me soup or checking my temp.
I just had to keep on, keeping-on.
And I’m a tad resentful about it.
Why is it that different rules apply when mums need a time out. Its not like I’ve set our household up to run efficiently if I’m the only one in charge. No. In fact I am pretty good at delegating and asking for help.
So why don’t I get it without having a bloody nervous breakdown?
Is it because despite the fact I think that I’ve asked for help, I really haven’t?
Is it that I continue to do the washing and mopping and vacuuming even though I should be lazing on the couch because the fear of the mounting up of these jobs outweighs actually getting better?
Or is it that society is still conditioned to think that women have to do it all?
I’m going to be fair and say it’s a little bit of all of those things.
Life keeps ticking, all of the time, when you’re a mum. That is why it’s the hardest job in the world, because there is literally no “clock-off” time. Ever.
And I know I’m my own worst enemy, for as I busily type now, while Billy naps, I could be, no rather, should be resting.
So that is what I’m going to go and do. Once I tidy the lounge room, of course.
Do you take the downtime you need when you’re sick?