As our readers know, last week I had the stomach flu. The bad kind. (Is there a good kind?) I felt I failed as a first time mom because I needed my partner’s help and he stayed home to take care of our son so I could rest. I couldn’t fathom how moms do this year after year. My joints were so sore I could barely walk, let alone tend to an infant. Plus, the vomiting and diarrhea. However, like most woman, I didn’t whine. I never asked him to stay home, he chose to. I didn’t ask him to wait on me hand and foot. I actually just wanted to be left alone. On day two, as difficult as it was, I managed. Just me and my son.
My partner is now sick. Wait for it…with a COLD. Dear Lord, call hospice! Does every fucking man think they are dying when they get sick? Man up and grow a pair! I swear, they immediately turn into 5 year olds. Actually, I’ve seen children handle the common cold much better than a 40 year old man.
For the men in your life dealing with the cold or flu, here is my advice:
1) You are not dying. In the event you feel the end is near, we need to make sure your insurance policy is in proper order.
2) Please do not cling to me worse than a teenager with her first crush. It’s not very attractive and it will get you no where but made fun of.
3) I am not your mother. If you require your mommy, I suggest you call her to take care of your sick ass.
4) I am not your maid or your servant. I am happy to help you but your cell phone is not a bell you can ring when you want something. Do not call me within our own home.
5) Stop calling my name every 5 minutes. I heard you the first time. I have chosen to ignore you.
6) Stop buying new boxes of cold medicine. We have one from the last time you caught the plague. ( and the time before and the time before that)
7) I don’t want to lay with you, by you, or on you. You are sick remember? My boobs are not warmers. Try again.
8) Do you want some cheese with that whine? Please stop.
9) I know that you are cold. I know that you are sweaty. It’s called the chills. You aren’t the first person on earth to experience this. I don’t need a play by play every 5 minutes.
10) I make it to the toilet. I expect you to as well. I will not clean up your shit or vomit. Get a garbage can and put it next to the bed circa 1981. Your mommy did this for you, remember?
And after it’s all said and done, their illness will be talked about for weeks. Rehashing “well, when I was sick….”. They will recover just fine and live to fight another day. Hospice will pack up, the insurance papers will be on stand bye, and they will still try on a daily basis to get you to put your boobs on them to keep them warm.