It has been a rough couple of weeks around here. As I mentioned before, Truman was sick and then I was sick, for days and days and days. Truman’s stomach virus lasted six long days and mine lasted four. I think he handled it way better than I did. I believe I’m a relatively tough woman. I’ve broken bones, toughed out natural labor, dealt with heartburn so bad I was throwing up blood… I rarely take medication for anything. I’m tough. (Or stupid. I’m not totally sure yet.)
This stomach virus brought me to my knees. It made me cry. It made me wish for the pain of labor. It reduced me to a puking, pooping, shivering little girl who wanted to crawl into her Mommy’s lap and suck her thumb. I could have dealt with all of that for 24 hours, but the damn thing dragged on for four days! I felt bad for Truman the entire time he was ill, but I felt a hundred times worse for him after experiencing the pain myself. My poor baby! Because I had to take so much time off while Truman was sick, I had no choice but to go into work while I was sick. (This is a whole separate story that I’ll tell one day.) I’ve never wanted my bed so much before in my life. If running to the bathroom every fifteen minutes is horrible at home, it is just devastating at work. Thankfully, I’m feeling like a new person today and I’m praying this bug is in the past. I’m still terrified that Grant will get sick, but he’s managed to avoid it so far and I’m feeling a little less nervous about that. So, what conclusion have I drawn from this?
I now see the beauty in having a sister-wife.
Now, stay with me here! How is sharing your family with another woman a good thing ever? Well, like this:
I am certain my sister wife would be far more sympathetic than my husband is able to be. He helped a lot, but he never offered to rub my feet or draw me a bath or make me tea and hold my hair while I puked. He said, “Wow… that sucks.” and things like that. He didn’t rub my back or tuck me into bed with clean, crisp sheets and a lavender scented neck pillow. I think my sister-wife would have.
My husband had his hands full with Truman, I had Grant in bed with me (continuous nursing helps pump him full of antibodies against whatever virus my body is currently fighting off, plus kept my supply up.) and the house just… fell apart. Not only is it a cluttered nightmare, it is also probably teaming with poop germs. At one point on Saturday, Truman was walking down the hall with shit running down his legs. I know it got wiped up, but I don’t know that it got scrubbed. He touches everything within his reach and attempts to touch everything out of his reach. I tried to disinfect, but he’s way faster than I am, especially when I’m hunched over and feeling like alien insects are feasting on my innards. If I had a sister-wife, I know she would have thrown in some laundry, scrubbed the poop off of, well, everything and disinfected the walls and light switches.
3. Child Care
After Truman felt good and I was knocking on death’s door, he wanted nothing more than to be with me. Being a Mom doesn’t stop when you are sick, or exhausted or feel like you just got hit by a bus. He wanted cuddling, milkies, to go “pot-tee,” to read stories and play outside. He also needed to be fed, changed, bathed and all of the other normal parenting stuff. Then there’s Grant. Currently, the only acceptable position for my little busy body is upright. He also wants to be bounced, jostled, jiggled – what ever – as long as he is moving all of the time. He too needs to be fed and changed and bathed and all of that stuff. It is a lot to deal with on a good day with two healthy parents, and completely overwhelming when one parent is face down in a toilet bowl. Enter sister-wife. Even better if she could double as a wet nurse. I would have just locked myself in my bedroom and slept for twelve hours straight and probably would’ve gotten better in two days instead of four.
It would only make sense to have one working Mom and one stay at home Mom if we did in fact procure a sister-wife. Which ever one I got to be, I still would have been able to stay home while ill instead of going to work, since Truman’s previous sick time would have been a non-issue. He would have had a mom home with him while the other mom went to work the whole time he was sick. Therefore, I wouldn’t have used up all the time off and I would have been able to use it on my own recovery.
My husband hasn’t had much fun the last four days either, even though he has been in a considerably better position than I have been in. He’s had to wrangle the kids alone, listen to a lot of groaning, witness a lot of disgusting stuff and handle a bunch of running around buying Gatorade and saltine crackers. I also haven’t been much fun to talk to or be around. If we had a sister-wife, he would have someone not only to help him, but to hang out with too. They could watch movies or take the kids to the park. They could have gone out to dinner or –
Never mind. No way would I be cool with my husband and my sister wife frolicking all about having a grand old time while I lived on a toilet! Who does this chick she think she is? So, I get to suffer and be away from my kids and she gets to go have all sorts of fun with my husband? No, no, no. Not around this house, Lady.
You know what? I don’t need a sister-wife. We managed to get through this ordeal and we can do it again. I’ll pick up the pieces this weekend. I’ll do eight loads of laundry and vacuum the house. I’ll send the kids out with Mike so I can bleach every surface possible. I’ll bust out the mixer and let Truman “turn it on and plug it in” to help make up for lost bonding time. Work… well, work can bite me. I showed up, I did my job, I even used the hall bathroom instead of the employee bathroom. If that isn’t good enough, I don’t know what else to tell them. I can make my own damn tea and I don’t like anyone near me when I puke. The foot rub… well, that would be awesome… but I’ll just pay for a pedicure. Maybe, just maybe, the Hubs and I can even have a few minutes of fun together.
Sorry Honey, just in case having another lady in your life sounded hot for a second; I’ve already changed my mind. You’re stuck with only me, at least until the stomach flu hits again.