My partner, Jake, has been feeling under the weather lately. Just yesterday, he decided to take a day off work, spending most of it curled up on the couch, surrounded by a fortress of tissues. He looked pretty miserable, and I must admit, he didn’t complain once about his condition or ask me to check if he had a fever. No “do I have COVID?” dramatics this time. As you can probably guess, this isn’t the first time we’ve navigated illness in our household.
I felt a surge of pride that Jake wasn’t his usual hypochondriac self. Yet, despite my admiration, I couldn’t shake a nagging irritation that crept up my spine, like an itch I couldn’t reach. It all started in the morning, as I prepared breakfast for the kids, packed their lunches, and scrubbed the dishes that had accumulated overnight. While I juggled these tasks, I found myself thinking bitterly, Must be so nice to be cozy and sick up there, huh? Where did that thought even come from?
Later, after I dropped my 9-year-old off at school, I returned home to find Jake nestled under a heap of blankets, his iPad glowing softly. I thought, Must be nice to be sick. Seriously? Who thinks that way?
As I worked on my laptop, I couldn’t help but notice him shuffling around the house, looking disheveled and pitiful. Each time he passed by, he wore that familiar expression—the one that begs for sympathy. But after all those times he insisted he had every illness under the sun, I couldn’t muster any pity for him.
My frustration simmered as I folded laundry while he binge-watched “River Monsters” and “Ancient Aliens.” My irritation peaked in the evening when I was preparing dinner while managing the kids’ homework chaos. I glanced over to see him sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. I thought to myself, I wonder if he’ll take a day off next time I’m sick, so I can have an entire day to recover peacefully.
It was in that moment I realized where my resentment stemmed from: good old-fashioned jealousy. I envied Jake’s sick day when I rarely get such luxuries. After five years of working from home, my memories of being unwell blend seamlessly with those of my healthier days, only they’re tinged with snot and fatigue. So yes, I felt a bit bitter.
Eventually, Jake joined us at the dinner table, and by then, my mood had improved. The kids were finally eating well and behaving, so laughter filled the room as we shared jokes and riddles. Toward the end of the meal, Jake placed a hand on my shoulder and cleared his throat. “Kids, we need to help Mommy out more. She does a lot for us—more than one person should have to do.”
His words touched me, almost making me forget my annoyance. Recently, he’d casually inquired about chores, and I could sense the unspoken question: What exactly do you do all day? After nearly 13 years together, it sometimes feels like he still doesn’t fully grasp my daily responsibilities.
But yesterday, on his sick day, he did see. It remains uncertain if this newfound awareness will lead to tangible expressions of gratitude, like him taking off work when I’m under the weather. Still, I consider it progress.
You know what? Next time I’m sick, I’m crawling back under the covers with some NyQuil and a good book, tossing my to-do list at Jake, and saying, “You’ll need to call in to work, honey!” Then maybe I’ll have a bit more sympathy to offer him when it’s his turn to be ill.
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In conclusion, navigating the daily ups and downs of parenting and partnership can be tricky, especially when illness strikes. It’s important to recognize and appreciate each other’s struggles, even when the grass seems greener on the other side.