Mum flu is as bad as any other flu, the only difference is that you have to pretend like you don't feel like your arse is going to fall out of your head, you don't hack up a lung every time you shift positions, you are actually awake and coherent .. and that your sinuses won't explode at any minute.
It is routine as usual.
At the moment, my routine consists of..
Waking, and cleaning up puppy poo.
Say a prayer of silent thanks that you collapsed into bed in yesterdays clothes, because it means you don't have to dress.
Make lunches , wake children, wake children again, scream the last of your voice out waking children again.
Whisper threats (your voice is gone remember) to banish all screen activities for twelve years and actually wake children.
Make breakfast without hacking up the Ebola virus into it, and pack your eldest child ( and your only means of extra hands for fetching glasses of milk and inserting DVDs) off to camp for three days.
Let the dog in to clean up weetbix spills on the floor and pretend you did it.
Stare longingly at your unmade bed with eight week old sheets on it, and your book.
Deliver other school aged children to school and pretend that you don't hear them protest about the unfairness of going to school whilst your eldest child is camping The. Whole. Fucking. Way.
Stop by the two dollar shop to buy plasticine, paddle pop sticks and an assortment of polished pebbles and other shit in the craft isle so that your child can make an extra credit shelter of some sort, that will no doubt get broken on the way to school the next day.
Pretend that extra credit shelters don't suck arse, they are not compulsory, however, the underlying threat is that the teacher will find out who the crap A parents are, by the ones that don't deliver, you have to pretend you are not a crap A parent.
Come home and clean more puppy poo,
Write a blog post whinging about the flu.
Thank everyone on twitter in said blog post for wishing you a speedy recovery after you whinged about it all night. (love)
Tell yourself you look beautiful and pretend you didn't actually look like this when you left the house this morning and pretend to believe it.
look at your washing pile and think, fuck it, my kid is making a shelter so There fore it won't matter if they wear a shirt with a large brown stain on it... A stain that you can only hope isn't puppy poo because you can't smell anything.
(NO ABMI PUR JOKES PLEASE!)
Make a mental note to make sure there is something brown in the shelter and hope your child's teacher thinks that the stain is from carrying it to class..
Prepare something remotely edible for dinner in the slow cooker, because your energy stores will not last till tea time.
Clean and make a feeble attempt to sweep at the carpet, because getting the vacuum cleaner from under the piles of towels and other crap you shoved on top of it out of the linen cupboard requires strength and energy you don't have.
Pretend this does not exist, and it is not happening to you.
Pray no one drops in.
Listen to your three year old practice her poonano, and giggle because when she says Piano it's sounds Iike some thing else.
Pretend her poonano song is beautiful, tell her so and restrain from hurling it at a moving vehicle because it is making your ears bleed and head crack with pain.
Collapse on the lounge and have story time all day, and pretend its Ok because stories are educational, and it's not just so you can lie down on the lounge and not listen to anymore poonano.
Crack your shit at the creators of Number Jacks and pretend you don't hear the tantrum from your inability to handle the show.
Return to the lounge.
Get up when you hear your other half's car in the driveway and pick up a tea towel.
Don't actually do anything with the tea towel, just holding it is proof enough you did not lay on the lounge reading stories all day.
Rinse whinge and repeat.
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