Cold and Flu Season: A Parent’s Survival Guide

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Children are like little petri dishes, always exploring the world by licking toys and touching everything in sight. They often forget to wash their hands, and let’s not even talk about bathroom habits. If you’ve got kids, you already know: they’re the messiest little creatures you could ever live with. So, when my 8-year-old son brought home a cold, it was no shock when the entire household caught it within 24 hours.

Suddenly, our home was a battleground of feverish kids and cranky adults, with the air thick with cold medicine and dirty dishes. Three baskets of laundry, untouched and unwashed, sat in our living room like monuments to the pre-sick days, when we communicated in full sentences rather than coughs and snorts. Once the illness took hold, my partner, Laura, and I stopped caring about the state of the house. Toys and clothes were everywhere, tissue wads littered the floor, and the beds hadn’t seen sheets in days. It felt like a nightmare with no waking up.

My 6-year-old daughter curled up on the floor, swaddled in a blanket, while my son, adamant about using his shirt sleeve as a tissue, sported lines of snot as if they were the latest fashion trend. I was too exhausted to engage in a battle of wills. Deep down, I knew I’d soon be scrubbing boogers off everything from his bed to the sofa.

Our youngest, a once sweet little bundle, transformed into a green-nosed troll shrieking every few minutes. The sound pierced my brain like a dull hammer. Yet, despite her distress, my heart ached for her as I watched her tear-streaked face and tiny hands clutching Laura’s shirt.

This is what a family in crisis looks like: chaos and frustration, with each of us in our own survival mode. You want to hide under the covers and ignore the world, but the kids seem to need extra attention. So you begrudgingly make them soup and wipe their noses, all while silently cursing the universe for unleashing this plague upon your home.

Eventually, when the stars align and the kids finally drift off to sleep, Laura and I hit the hay too. But as any seasoned parent knows, good luck getting a night of uninterrupted rest. The kids will be up at all hours, seeking remedies for problems you can’t solve. It’s during these sleepless nights that parents often find themselves pointing fingers at each other, questioning why the other isn’t suffering enough. The truth is, both partners are equally worn out, but it’s hard to think clearly when you’re sick and sleep-deprived, leading to late-night arguments that seem utterly absurd in the light of day.

We’ve tried dividing the night shifts in the past, with one of us taking the kids until the wee hours while the other takes over for the rest of the night. But this time, we went to bed without a solid plan, a mistake we quickly regretted.

The baby was the first to wake. Laura attempted to feed her, but the little one struggled to breathe and suck at the same time, resulting in a wail that jolted our daughter awake. She cried out, “I have boogers!” as if we hadn’t already known. I got up to help, but she was too groggy to blow her nose, leading to a cascade of tears that woke our son, who simply moaned from his bed, asking for a popsicle. In my sickly haze, I handed it over, knowing full well I’d find the melted mess in his sheets the next morning.

The cacophony of wailing kids made me contemplate escaping to the woods and sleeping under a pine tree. Somehow, I finally managed to get our older two back to sleep, but the hours ahead were filled with light dozing, punctuated by the baby’s cries and occasional coughing fits. Laura woke me at 3 a.m. to inform me that the baby had been awake the entire time. I could almost feel the daggers she was throwing my way for my apparent slumber.

For the next two hours, I sat up with the baby, watching Baby Einstein: Lullaby Time on repeat. The soft classical music and mind-numbing visuals began to feel oddly profound. By 4 a.m., I was having existential thoughts about a train moving in circles.

Finally, the baby dozed off in my arms. I placed her in the crib, only for her to cry again just ten minutes later. That’s when Laura and I transitioned from fatigue to sheer insanity, bickering over why the baby wouldn’t sleep. “You didn’t swaddle her!” Laura exclaimed. “She needs to be swaddled!” “She wasn’t swaddled when you handed her to me!” I shot back, our argument spiraling into a ridiculous debate over blankets and binkies instead of acknowledging the real issue: she was sick.

Eventually, Laura took charge, swaddled the baby, and fed her a bit more, placing her in our bed. I snuggled up with our son, who had started crying again, miraculously avoiding the melted popsicle disaster.

By morning, we were both exhausted but ready to face the day with a bit of humor. The stress of being sick and caring for three sick kids is immense. It’s surprising how quickly anger can flare up in the night and how easily that tension dissipates come morning. “I’m sorry for losing it last night,” Laura said. “Same here,” I replied. Together, we begrudgingly made more soup for the kids, hoping that we’d all soon be back to our normal, chaotic selves.

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Summary

Cold and flu season can wreak havoc on families, leading to sleepless nights and chaos. Parents often find themselves juggling sick kids while battling their own illnesses. Instead of succumbing to frustration, it’s essential to support one another and find humor in the madness when the dust settles.

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