When a man is sick, they call it #MANFLU
All of a sudden, he is incapable of functioning and reverts back to a child who needs nurturing and petting. He needs you to make him hot soup and wait on him with meds, socks, blankets and the tv remote.
He does that ‘ferris-bueller’ style *coughcough* and you give yourself a headache trying not to roll your eyes as you check his temperature and assure him that he in fact, is not going to die.
You encourage him to go to the doctor which he probably wouldn’t do on his own volition, despite his certainty that he has contracted some dire disease, according to Google.
When a woman is sick? She gets on with it!
Ain’t no one waiting on her when she’s rundown, coughing, spluttering and running a fever.
Dinner is still served, the children still changed and fed and that hot cup of tea she made herself still goes cold.
But right now? 4 days into my headcold (complete with body aches/sweats and phlem the colour of baby puree) I had to have a little chuckle to myself.
I lost my sense of smell a couple of days ago. Like, COMPLETELY.
That means, when the rubbish in the kitchen starts to get a little ripe, something died in the fridge or the cats back out a turd that radiates the entire house letting us know… it’s my husband that has to deal with it.
Because whoever smelt it deals with it right?
Looking on the bright side of my #MOMFLU today and hope that I can make another mama giggle as she re-boils the kettle to make a tea, for the 3rd time this morning.