RECOVERY TIME: Sick days are a precious commodity when you’re a working mother.
RECOVERY TIME: Sick days are a precious commodity when you’re a working mother. JM Guyon

Modern Mum: Sick and tired of daily grind

I HAD what I thought was a stomach bug last week.

Of course sick days are a precious commodity when you're a working mum, so I dragged my butt into work anyway.

I managed to get half a day's work completed, when I gave up and took myself to the doctor.

The local "sit-and-wait" clinic seemed to be the only option, with no appointments available with my regular doctor.

I put my name down, asked the receptionist for a sick bag and got a comfortable spot in the corner in anticipation of the long wait ahead of me.

I then watched in bewilderment as the receptionist doused herself in antibacterial gel after serving me.

Apparently "vomit bag" is the magic word in a busy doctor's office, because I was called in after only a short five-minute wait.

I walked past the multitude of death stares from the other patients both on my way in and out, and then headed home.

Their stares remained futile. I already felt like death as it was; nothing was going to make it any worse.

No sooner did I get home to "rest", when all four kids arrived home from school and afternoon mayhem broke out!

Being excited to have me home early, my two had a desperate desire to take turns coming into my bedroom and jumping all over me. While the older two simultaneously asked for more snacks from the pantry.

I sent them all outside to play.

First, two of them collided and fell off the trampoline.

Screaming could be heard across the neighbourhood.

Out of bed I get, ice packs are applied, injuries are kissed better and back to bed I go.

Next someone spills a drink. I shout instructions on how to clean it up from my bedroom.

No one hears me. I get up and explain to them what they need to do and go back to bed.

Then, there was a skateboard accident and a cut toe.

I get up again, grab the first aid kit, clean up the wound, apply 10 band-aids and go back to bed once more.

By now I am getting slightly irritated, when someone decides it's a good time to play the drum kit!

I am not even kidding!

The drum kit! Of course my screams asking them to stop can't be heard over the noise, so up I get yet again.

Over the course of the afternoon, I was also interrupted by a call from a telemarketing scammer telling me my computer had a virus, temper tantrums from various children who had been given chores to do, the cat who was chasing some kind of mysterious object around my bedroom and a partner who seemed to think that me lying in bed is an open invitation for canoodling!

It's not I tell you!

Yes, through all of this, my partner was home.

But as his children are older he doesn't tend to stress too much.

Day to day stuff, and especially "afternoon mayhem" just doesn't bother him.

Me on the other hand, well I am a little different, my two kiddies are younger and out of all the mayhem, they cause the most!

I had a few tests done in the days following that revealed nothing.

The doctor's diagnosis? Stress. Fancy that.



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