The lurgy, the dreaded lurgy.
You know when your throat feels like you’ve swallowed a cactus and your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton wool? You know when your head feels like someone’s hit it with a hammer, repeatedly, and when you lay down it actually feels worse?
Except, you don’t get to lay down. There’s these little noisy people, they call themselves your children, except your not even sure your alive enough to have had any.
You decide to humour them, drag yourself from your death bed and find out what they want.
Except, it seems they want everything. They want you to feed them and get them drinks. If they’re very little noisy people they also want you to change their nappy or help them get to the toilet and wipe their bottom.
They want this from someone whose head is pounding so much their struggling to wipe their own nose.
Except, that’s just the basics. They also want you to play or sort out squabbles with their sibling/s.
Worse yet is when they have the lurgy too. The very little noisy people cry because they’re hungry yet won’t drink their milk because of their stuffy nose so they cry even more. The slightly bigger little noisy people want you to cuddle and carry them even though you can barely lift your own feet to walk.
I hate getting ill now I’m a parent. There’s no sick days. No time off to lay on the sofa, drink orange juice, pop paracetamol and doze in front of crappy daytime TV.
Nope, you just have to get up and get on with it even if you feel like death warmed up.
Needless to say, I hope I don’t have anymore bouts of lurgy this winter but I don’t think I’m that lucky!