When Momma Ain’t Happy…

Weekly column

A few days after Christmas, our household was hit by a mild stomach bug. The illness actually started early Christmas morning, but was hardly noticeable because for the boys, the bug manifested as a desire to lay around a lot and eat very little – both odd behaviors for the eight-to-twelve-year-old male set but not at all unmanageable.

It was a few days after that, however, when the problems began. Paul started feeling a little fuzzy, and I had an overwhelming sense of blech. I wanted to keep up our fast-paced holiday speed, doing fun activities with the boys to get the most out of our Christmas vacation – but I wanted even more to just lay down for a very long time.

The sickness won over, no amount of “pushing through” would do and we spent the days after Christmas with mom and dad holed up in bed praying to the good Lord that the older boys would rise to the occasion and keep the peace and also that no one would find the matches.

That first day worked out just fine because Paul wasn’t so sick he couldn’t get up every so often to survey the scene. Also, my sister came and took the toddler who, let’s face it, can cause the most damage. The other boys did great, staying in a pack together in the front room thus avoiding any of the nasty side effects that come with one boy in search of adventure on his own.

Things got really bad the next day, however, when my husband felt well enough to return to work and I still felt horrible. Because my issues were of the post-illness/fatigue variety, the situation didn’t really warrant Paul missing work. To me, however, this signaled the hardest kind of day there is: just muddling through, we’ll deal with the mess tomorrow.

We spent that entire day with me on the couch too exhausted to do anything but count heads and maintain a harm-free environment. The boys were very good about keeping Henry entertained and really it mostly involved watching lots and lots of television. Sadly, this always sounds great at first and then nose-dives into all the despair and agitation that comes from too many hours sitting in a zombie-like state in front of a flickering screen.

I hate being sick. It’s a major drag.

Of course I dislike the physical discomfort and suffering that illness brings – nobody likes that. What I tell myself, what I try to remind myself in the midst of these minor sufferings, is that some people’s suffering is so much greater than a stomach bug. While I use that information to keep things in perspective, it also scares me because I can barely handle the small inconvenience of a stomach bug; please Lord, don’t send me anything bigger.

The worst part of being sick at this stage of my life is how it affects my role as Mother – and that role is the main thing I’ve got going right now. There is no other obligation that takes precedence over this job and while most days I can juggle being a mom with a few other roles as well, when push comes to shove, my job as mom comes first.

Being side lined with illness is a striking reminder of how much is riding on me, on my ability to get the job done. When illness forces me to just lie there and do nothing, it scares me – I’m unnerved by an inability to care for my family and meet their needs.

It also helps me appreciate, as we close out a very busy Christmas season, what a luxury it is to serve my family. It can be easy to get exhausted and resentful. When my ability to get the job done is yanked from under me, I am that much more grateful for my life – and all the busyness it entails – when I am feeling well once again.