This spring, our family passed around the annual Bean Family Spring cold. For the first time, I appeared to be immune. My Magic Suit of Momness apparently worked it powers and FINALLY, after nearly 9 years, I was able to clean puke and wipe noses without catching the crud.
Or so I thought.
Actually, my recent illness appears to be minor. We're in Day 2 of Scratchy Throat Syndrome which may end up being simply allergy related to the giant gusts of winds blowing every piece of pollen off every piece of greenery in the entire valley.
My family, in general, is fairly healthy. Aside from my bad back and minor seasonal allergies, we usually only have 2 rounds of crud that run through the family. Medical research aside I attribute this to 2 things:
1) Vitamins- my kids take them when I remember (I am vigilant over the winter). I usually take them. We don't seem to get sick much. That's my research. Argue amongst yourselves.
2) Natural immunity-my children, in particular my daughter, have placed nearly every known object on a playground in their mouths. My daughter even licked the bottom of an exam table at the pediatrician's office for no apparent reason other than to taste the taste of a wide variety of germs.
This natural immunity, I had hoped, had finally transferred to me. As a mom, I've been peed on, barfed on, crapped on, sneezed on, etc, etc. I can only hope that this will protect me from super virus to which I will be exposed in the nursing home where my kids will send me. But for now, it's not quite there.
I should also point out that my husband has really stepped up to the plate in the arena of sick child care. I was unaware that it was only the responsibility of the mother. This ideology came to a crashing end one night, at 2 am, when my son was 2 and I had vomit sliding down my back, in my hair, and was holding my son-- who was covered in vomit-- and I asked my husband to please change the crib sheets and I would take care of Skip.
"I can't. It will make me throw up. I can't stand the smell."
I believe the next 5 minutes of tirade sounded something like this:
"Gee, really? You see I love being bathed in vomit. It's wonderful. The rancid smell of half digested food trickling down my back makes me want to dance...."
I sorta, kinda lost it. If you know me, it's never a good thing. I'm always so freakin' polite that when I lose it, I REALLY lose it. I don't raise my voice. I go, as my husband says, immediately for the jugular vein of sarcasm.
So now we have a system. I clean the respective kid, he gets the sheets. We look like a NASCAR pit crew, if I don't say so myself.
The only time the system fails is when one of us gets it.
My husband actually picked up the cold first, then my son, then my daughter, then back to my son, back to my daughter, maybe the dog.... who knows? It's a 2 month process. I felt a little cocky. I was good. So I took care of everyone. Even let my husband have the whole bed and slept on the couch a few nights.
And now, crap, cough, sniffle, I have it.
And they are all feeling great.
The good news, I have a great family and they will take care of me. The kids will crawl into bed with me. Read to me. Bring me something to drink. Then take a drink out of the same cup. Then I will sneeze on them. Then they will get it back.
And the circle of bacterial and viral life goes on.
Because if you give a kid a virus, then he'll need a sick parent to go with it.