This is my deepest, darkest secret as a mother and one that, frankly, I am embarrassed to even admit to myself. It gets to me especially in these cold, bitter months of winter when I can't escape the thing that makes me crazy, makes me want to stick my hands over my ears like the child I am at heart and makes me filled with a sense of disgust that is hard to describe.
Here goes: I can't stand the sound of my children's sniffles.
Maybe it's just me and my germ-riddled household, but this year has been one of the worst cold and flu seasons of all time. (Disclaimer: If anyone out there is tempted to suggest I just need to use more essential oils, just stop. Just stop right now.) Every time I turn around another kid is going down with a fever, and with a husband who is a middle school teacher, I swear a new strain of grossness enters our house every day, along with a lingering scent of B.O. from his students who have yet to discover the gift of deodorant.
What does it say about me as a mother that I have to fight the urge to run away with my fingers in my ears screaming?
Anyways, my point is, I'd like to say that through all of the fevers and the puking and the snot and the sniffles and the inevitable crankiness that I am the perfect picture of saintly motherhood patience, but the truth is, I can't take it. I feel like I can't take one more snot-filled minute.
What does it say about me as a mother that instead of getting the urge to cook my children homemade chicken noodle soup and rub Vick's vapor rub on their chests, I have to fight the urge to run away with my fingers in my ears screaming?
In honor of the torture that is cold and flu season, I have composed the following poem for parents around the world who may be just like me. Ahem. Here goes nothing:
Also I'm sorry for that grocery cart handle my kid doth lick.
So now you all know my deepest motherhood secret. Deep inside, when my kids are sniffling and snotting all over the house, no one is more pained than I am. I am horrified at the germs we are passing in the air, I am wishing for the oft-not appreciated gift of clear nasal passages, and I am wishing that my children didn't constantly use my shoulder as their own personal hanky.
But like a lot of aspects of motherhood, I know this is the unglamorous part that I have to keep smiling through. And armed with Kleenex, cough drops and humidifiers, hopefully we will come out to the other side of the season unscathed.
OK and now, go ahead. Hit me with your favorite essential oils. I'm officially too tired to fight.