We've all heard the joke: "Moms don't get sick!" But today, that changed for me as the flu finally hit. As a seasoned stay-at-home mom of two, I'm in full dish-rag mode—utterly wiped out. My husband kindly took our daughter to school this morning, letting me focus on our youngest. We muddled through with plenty of cuddles, new Playmobil adventures, couch sandwiches, cozy blankets, and the occasional movie so I could rest my eyes. Still, being a sick mom comes with its own battles.
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By 3 p.m., it's unavoidable: Even sick, I have to pick up our daughter from school in 15 minutes. With our youngest in tow on the cargo bike, I drag myself there, arriving just as the doors open.
Without a proper hello, my daughter rushes up: "Mama, can I play with Lily?" I sigh—another bike trip is the last thing I need, especially since playdates at others' homes are off-limits today. Lily can't come, but I promise a meetup later this week and try to usher her out.
She fights back, her lip quivering. "But Mom, I really want to play with someone!" Tears flow. Our daughter hasn't mastered handling disappointment yet. I suggest her BFF Lize, who's five and always up for fun. No luck—Lize needs to retrieve her bike. The crying intensifies.
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I'm ready to stand firm, but my weakened state softens my resolve. Spotting another friend, I let her ask to play. Shy, she needs me to tag along. Third time's no charm—her sister's playdate complicates things.
The meltdown peaks, but I draw the line: No more biking in this condition, and she can't go alone. Guilt floods in—I feel like a terrible mom for prioritizing rest over her social time, all because I'm sick.
The tears last until we reach home. There, she unlocks the bike, grabs juice and a biscuit, and plays ahead. I collapse on the couch, riddled with regret for not being firmer from the start. Glancing up, I see her and her brother happily building a knight's castle, the drama forgotten. She smiles at me, then says, "Mommy, just lie down—I'll tuck you in with a blanket."
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She adds thoughtfully, "It's okay I couldn't play—now I can care for you."
I'm melted. Years of motherhood have taught me these moments mix guilt with heartwarming resilience. By the day after tomorrow, I'll be back to facilitating all the playdates she wants.
Image used via Shutterstock
