There are two primary things that kids give zero fucks about:
- Hangovers
- Parental Illness
I haven’t been slamming margaritas lately (unfortunately – damn you, breastfeeding), but I am a regular victim of the common cold. It’s that time of year, and although I do my best to continue functioning, I’m not firing on all cylinders. Illness of some kind shifts the entire dynamic of my household, and I’m guilty of things that on a normal day would never fly.
Unlimited screen time.
Yep. If my little darlings want to stare at a screen while I stuff tampons up my nose like an MMA fighter to stop the flow of snot, you bet that’s exactly what I’m going to allow. You want to watch Moana again? Have at it. I’ll sing every song with you if my butt gets to remain on this couch while I nurse a sinus headache.
Free-for-all meals.
It’s snack time! Normally I would insist on an apple with peanut butter or some other healthy fare, but today, the child wants a sucker. Of course. Have three. But snag that apple off the counter and eat it like a big kid, too, ok? Let’s all pretend that we’re trying here. Cereal and goldfish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Just kidding, I’ll still prepare a meal of some sort, but it’s not Rachel Ray worthy. But is my cooking ever? So, it’s not really a loss.
Concern for cleanliness vanishes.
I don’t care that blocks are in every corner of the house. I’m not as concerned as I normally would be about dirty underwear on the floor as long as the child is wearing clean ones. Laundry? Wouldn’t bet on it. The house will look like a hurricane struck, with banana peels and sucker wrappers on the counter, and I’m not sorry. This includes children. If it was bath time today, it’s shower time tomorrow.
Pajamas all day.
If I’m sick, we’re all in pajamas. It doesn’t even matter if we have to hit the grocery store out of desperation, in case we’re out of cold meds and milk. We’re about to take this pajama party on the road, and in that case, I might have enough dignity/energy to at least put sweatpants on. Depends on how sick I am, and if I’m sick enough to publicly rock the leopard print pajama bottoms, you better think twice before mentioning it.
Moms don’t get sick days, so we have to roll with it as best we can. Hopefully the utter despair only lasts a couple days, and you can go ham cleaning the house and getting everything back in order. Besides, it’s refreshing to toss the rules out for a day or two, right? Right.
