I spent last night tossing and turning, plagued by an unwelcome guest: a stomach bug. I’ve even dedicated chapters in my unpublished manuscript to my disdain for these pesky little invaders, but today, I’m compelled to share my thoughts here instead. When I pitched my book to a publisher, I confidently stated my target audience was “moms who detest the stomach flu.” Unsurprisingly, they weren’t interested. Who knew there wasn’t a thriving market for vomit-related literature?
Now, however, I find myself in a position to make my case from the confines of my bedroom. We’re in lockdown mode. I received the dreaded news that my son had been sick at daycare. My reaction was nothing short of theatrical. Picture a war movie where a soldier delivers grim news: there’s chaos, panic, and lots of tears. That was me on the phone as the daycare worker tried to comfort me. I can only imagine her thinking, “Next time, I’m going to have someone else deliver this news.”
Meanwhile, my husband, Mark, is doing his best. He can juggle work, chores, and kids, but there’s something about the chaos that escapes him. I can hear my little ones sneaking into my room, despite being scolded. One of my teens exclaims, “You can’t go in there! Mom’s not well!” I’m too weak to chase them away, and honestly, maybe I am on the brink of death.
Laundry is piling up, kids are crying, and I’m stuck in a haze of nausea. And you know who I blame? You, the average family who thinks it’s okay to brave the world while carrying a stomach bug. You waltzed into the church potluck, looking like you just crawled out of a grave. You proudly placed your questionable macaroni salad on the table, while your kids traipsed in with store-bought cookies, pretending they were homemade. When I asked if you were okay, you replied, “Oh, my husband and boys were sick all night! But we just had to come, and I’m feeling a bit queasy.”
My instinct was to throw the untouched monkey bread at you. If I were bolder, I might have confronted you, but instead, I grabbed my kids, our jackets, and left the casserole behind. It was contaminated anyway.
The alarm bells went off in Mark’s head when I whistled—this was no drill. He was out of there in a flash, dodging conversations like a pro. As we sped out of the church parking lot, I noticed one of our kids running after us, and I yelled, “Just go!” Survival of the fittest, right?
Sadly, it was too late. By day four, I was down for the count. From my sickbed, I struggle with my love for family and my resentment for your reckless behavior. So here’s my plea: if you’ve been up all night throwing up, please keep it to yourself. You can text it, email it, or even send a carrier pigeon if you need to, but don’t say it out loud. Just stay home. The world can manage without you, and believe me, Sunday school will survive.
I will recover. For now, I sip on medications like they’re champagne and pray for relief. Eventually, I’ll rise from this pile of laundry, wait for the carpet cleaner to arrive, and mourn the lost days. I’ll envision you, clinging to your porcelain throne, hoping you see me there in spirit.
So once again, if you’re feeling sick, just stay home. Stay home.
This article originally appeared on January 25, 2016.
Summary
In a humorous and relatable account, Jamie shares her battle with a stomach bug while navigating the chaos of family life. She urges families battling illness to prioritize staying home instead of exposing others, all while reflecting on the challenges of motherhood and the importance of self-care. For more information on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource.