The flu hit us in a big way this week. Big and loud and fast came that monster. There’s nothing like that transition into marriage.
I thought it was bad enough when we were awake beyond all reasonable hours to work together to clean up one kid’s projectile situation off the bathroom floor. Scratch that. We were cleaning it off the bathroom everything. But then we each got it, and we were dropping like flies around here.
Oh, the indignity of throwing up in front of your brand new spouse. Any sense of decorum and preservation can only hold out for so long. Eventually, you have to just wave the white flag, let the cards fall where they may, embrace every metaphor for surrender, and say, “Babe, just try to remember why you fell in love with me. Please hold on to that shred of a memory. Please.”
Three things I learned this time around:
- You can never have too much toilet paper.
- Those thousands of plastic grocery bags, the ones we were hoarding under the kitchen sink, won the MVP award in the category of sickness supplies. When everybody was sick and there weren’t enough bathrooms to go around, I lined small trashcans with layers and layers of these little bags. So when somebody threw up (again), I could simply tie that bag, put it in the garbage outside, and my family was ready for the next round. I could do commercials on the brilliance of this idea. You think you won’t need this little tip, but that’s only because you’re all healthy today. Tuck it away, young moms. I’m just saying: tuck it away.
- There comes a point in life where a child needs to just face the reality of being sick, and he needs to handle himself on his own (instead of following his mom around with the trash can, giving a symptomatic play-by-play). In our house, this age is officially eleven. I really believe his wife will someday thank me for this small step toward independence.
That is all for today. If anyone needs me, I’ll be disinfecting like a wild woman.
Godspeed, everyone. And wash your hands.