I woke up this morning feeling like I swallowed sandpaper and got hit by a truck… only to remember I’m also the full-time caregiver to a 2-year-old with a runny nose and a 2-month-old who believes sleep is a personality flaw.
Motherhood, but make it viral.
My toddler is dramatically coughing every six seconds like he’s auditioning for a Victorian-era orphan role. Meanwhile, the baby is cluster-feeding, contact-napping, and sneezing directly into my eyeballs. I’m not even sure whose germs these are anymore. We’re just one big, congested ecosystem.
At one point, I microwaved my coffee three times, forgot about it, found it again, and then drank it cold anyway because survival. The toddler asked for a snack, rejected the snack, cried about the snack, and then ate the snack off the floor. The baby screamed because I sat down. Rookie mistake.
I tried to “rest when they rest,” which is hilarious because they rest in shifts like tiny, adorable hospital interns determined to break me.
There’s tissues everywhere, someone is always whining (including me), and I’m pretty sure I’ve been wearing the same sweatshirt for two days — but honestly, we’re doing great. Everyone’s alive. No one has licked the dog today. Small wins.
Motherhood when everyone’s sick is basically just managing chaos with one hand, holding a baby with the other, and wondering if DayQuil pairs well with goldfish crackers.
Send soup. And silence. Mostly silence.