Have you ever had one of those weekends that have gone so completely to shit that returning to work on Monday morning seems like the vacation escape of a lifetime?
Yeah, me too. And I’m still living it.
What was supposed to be a tame weekend of potty training and hanging out turned into the elongated weekend from hell and no, not because there was an overhyped (knock on wood – because I actually haven’t been outside) ice storm that swept the middle of the country but because my home became the fucking epicenter of disease.
First, let’s recap. Seth spent last Monday and Tuesday in bed with the stomach flu. Wednesday he went into work but still spent most of his time at home in bed. Thursday, things were semi-back-to-normal and Friday I woke up feeling under the weather so I slept in a little longer and Seth took kid duty Friday night. Then, shit hit the fan.
Seth woke up Saturday morning, walked into the kitchen where I was making breakfast and said, “I think I have Strep”. I was immediately annoyed because (OF COURSE IT’S SATURDAY AND NOW YOU HAVE FUCKING STREP) there is no worse time to have any sort of highly contagious illness than a Saturday in the middle of January when there is a fucking icepocalypse on the horizon and the very high possibility that the entire family will be stuck indoors together forever.
As men tend to get when they’re sick or think they’re sick, Seth was suddenly over the top with everything. He hovered over me in the kitchen mumbling about his throat and asking me to touch his head. He continued to do this until I finally just looked at him and said, “If you think you have strep, go to the doctor!” – just like that he was showering, getting dressed and walking out of the door. He literally could not have moved any faster.
So there we were, the three of us. Again. Hoping we could still maybe make it to this Air Show I had been hoping to convince Seth to go to, I got Matty dressed while Abbott napped. As I wiped off his face, I noticed that his “cold sore” had turned into multiple blisters and gross sores. SICK. I looked at the clock, 8:35 am. I called the pediatrician’s office and left a message on the nurse’s line. About 25 minutes later they called back, I described to the nurse what was going on.
“Has Matheson been exposed to anything recently?”
“Well, he had a classmate with Strep this week and in his brother’s classroom there was RSV, Strep, Hand-foot-mouth, Impetigo and some sort of rash.”
The nurse laughed and told me to use my app to send in pictures of the sores and we’d go from there. I definitely did not have whatever app she was referring to so I had to use the internet – do people have these doctor apps? Am I terrible mom?! Trying to get pictures of Matty’s mouth was next to impossible.
“What you doing, Mama? CHEEESE! CHEEEEEEEEEESE! CHEESE! Mama, whata you doing?!”
“Matty, please stop talking. I have to get a picture of your owies.”
About an hour and a half later, it was confirmed. Matty had Impetigo. Seth was MIA and his phone was dead. Luckily, as soon as I started to worry about his whereabouts, he walked in the door with an arm full of grocery bags.
“Awesome. Matty has Impetigo.”
And with that, Seth went straight to bed.
I thought to myself, at least I have baby Bot to keep me sane. PSYCHE! Cut to 4 hours later when Bot’s running a 104.3 degree temp and I’m taking him across town to urgent care.
Another fucking ear infection.
And just like that, there was one lone wolf. Mama Wolf. HAHAHA – See? I’m losing it – send help.
The rest of the day was a blur of chasing Matty in and out of rooms, checking Bot’s temp, doling out medicine, periodically checking to make sure Seth was still breathing and reinforcing the “kitchen is closed” rule. Matty, despite being highly contagious, was a nut ball. He needed some fresh air. After putting Abbott to bed, I took him to the store with me. I am not exaggerating at all when I say he ran into our neighborhood Walmart market like a wild creature who had never seen civilization. He ran full speed up and down the aisles, he stalked poor unassuming shoppers and then he roared at them like a lunatic. I just let him do his thing. Other people seemed to be enjoying it (or completely ignoring it) and I figured the more energy he could expend, the better. Sue me.
Sunday was more of the same. Seth, still quarantine, had a fairly high fever, Matty was still an energetic nut ball with a blister lip and Bot was clingy, whiney and obviously uncomfortable. Outside, it had started raining. We were all officially stuck. And then I hit my breaking point with a chicken pox scare. Mysterious spots had popped up all over Bot’s torso and, already fragile and terrible with “skin things”, I had started shooting texts to anyone who would respond and might be able to help. I wondered if the weather was too bad to get back across town. I also suddenly realized I hadn’t showered or even looked at myself in the mirror since the Friday. SICK. Would it be so terrible to show up to urgent care in the same shit I showed up in yesterday? Maybe I could just go to the other one across town? Is it bad that I don’t even care?!
Thankfully, I got talked off the Chicken Pox ledge (apparently I should have known he had a chicken pox vaccine) and scooted my concern over to the Hand, Foot and Mouth ledge. I don’t even know what would be worse.
It’s always something.
Today, all four of us are home partially in thanks to the boys not having school and partially thanks to the multitude of diseases we’re all carrying. Seth’s fever is gone but now he’s taking care of me because of course I feel like death. I’m just waiting for some weird-ass blisters to pop up around my mouth and then further break out into a rash covering my body. Which, honestly, basically sums up my existence as a mom so far.
I’m looking forward to going to work tomorrow. And, no, I don’t feel guilty for saying that. Shout out to all the single moms out there. I don’t know how you do it. You’re the real MVP today (I mean, besides MLK Jr.).