I never fully realized before becoming a parent, how fit and healthy I was. Only after having kids, and especially kids reaching daycare age, I began to realize that I used to be in reasonable shape, generally slept very well, was only sick once every three to five years, and above all, all of the aforementioned changed.
I love my kids.
I just don’t love that they put saliva on everything, and lick every single surface they can get their hands on, from street pavement, to toilet seats, to shopping carts. They are quite efficient in collecting every daycare disease available. In a sense it is quite amazing that we have always managed to dodge the COVID-19 bullet.
This past week has been particularly sketchy. Last Wednesday, our toddler Rafa came home from daycare, having completely shat himself. This never happened. Ever. But he seemed fine. At the dinner table he gave us a clear warning that things weren’t fine. The warning sign was orange-yellow and contained tomato, eggplant and zucchini. Three bouts emptied his stomach completely, and he was immediately better. The next days he seemed fine, so that on Monday he could go to daycare again.
On Sunday evening, without any warning sign, our baby Lara threw out everything while I brought her to bed. This situation continued on Monday, so we went to the doctor with her. Some meds helped her recover by Tuesday.
On Tuesday my wife Heike was sick. Really sick. The entire day she could only lie on the floor, which was greatly appreciated by the baby. It came out of nowhere, and by the end of the day, Heike was almost fit again. Tired, but no longer sick.
I was the last man standing, and I of course saw the storm coming.
What I didn’t see coming was a round two for Rafa last night. All night he spent retching, after emptying his stomach early in the night. Aside from the first bout, he didn’t even cry. He took it like a three year old champion. He must have woken up eight times, during which I helped him aim for the bucket – but we failed miserably. We both woke up covered in unidentified objects.
I woke up, tired, but alright. I had breakfast, had to take an appointment at the municipality, and started a meeting with two colleagues, to help them finalize a layout for their soon-to-be paper. The first three-quarters of the meeting, I felt okay, but after an hour or two, I felt dizzy, and got stomach cramps. By the time we finished the meeting, I was having hot and cold flashes. The daycare bugs had finally reached me.
I haven’t felt this miserable in a long time. I only hope it will be just one round, and will pass as quickly as it did for the kids.
Until then, I’m being miserable on a mattress on the living room floor, waiting for better times.
I wonder if the better, no, healthier times are not behind me…
2 thoughts on “Waiting for better times”
That really does not sound fun!
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I get very annoyed with myself when I am so miserable that I can literally only lie on the floor and repeat every ten minutes how miserable I am. There are so many better things to do with time.
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