It’s now day five of my self-imposed exile. The world outside looks absolutely enchanting through the snot-smeared windows. I find myself staring at my phone, willing it to ring, beep, or buzz. Please, I plead. Is there anyone out there who still remembers me in this bleak moment? I worry that I’ve forgotten how to hold a real conversation. Will the other parents at preschool still recognize me when I finally emerge? I can’t even picture the face of my favorite barista. I roam the hallways of my own home, stuck in an endless loop of chores: Laundry. Dishes. Diapers. Dinner. Repeat.
In my mind, I’m out enjoying the delightful playdates that once filled my calendar. I’m pushing a cart through Target with my little one while the older sibling is at preschool. I’m sipping coffee with my mom friends or catching up over lunch at their homes. I’m happily cruising along the highway, hoping to keep the boys snoozing a bit longer. It was a blissful life I cherished before flu season hit.
But all it took was one cough from a classmate, a misplaced handshake, or an innocent kiss from a doting grandparent to throw me into this chaotic realm of “I have nothing to wear because my last clean pants are now drenched in bodily fluids.” But don’t cry, my little one. I know throwing up is scary. It’s okay; don’t fret, my poor, sick child. I needed to do laundry anyway.
The baby’s cries and coughs from the next room remind me that the end of this tunnel is still days away. Today, I must seek my Zen amidst a barrage of animated tank engines and preachy Muppets. Surrender is the only option in this solitary confinement. I won’t fight any battles today. No lofty goals like showering or even breakfast for me. I’ll let time drift by as it pleases.
One day, I will rise up and demand lunch be more than just chicken nuggets. I will create new educational adventures and turn off the claymation farm animals. But today is not that day. Today, I’ll kneel and pray for healing, long nap times, and that my husband miraculously shows up with a surprise treat just for me.
Come Monday morning, I will rejoin society. When the sun rises, I’ll greet the fresh air with a smile and perhaps some sidewalk chalk or something equally delightful. My phone will be in hand, firing off texts to everyone I know, inviting them to embrace the day with me. Until the next sneeze or cough comes along. Or until my husband succumbs to the flu.
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Summary:
Flu season can feel isolating, as one mom shares her struggles during a week of confinement. With a touch of humor, she reflects on the joys of her pre-flu life and the mundane reality of illness. As she navigates this challenging time, she looks forward to returning to her regular routine and connecting with friends again.