Mum Flu is like Man Flu but without the sympathy. And unlike its parental twin there is no bed rest with this chuffing bastard. Nor are there endless hours of watching box sets and sipping chicken soup. Welcome to a new kind of hell, fellow mummies, because despite temperatures of 103 you are still expected to pick up hot-pink plastic crap all day and keep small humans alive.
Children are like feral animals, they can sense weakness. Any rational behavior (if you can call a toddler rational) goes right out the window when mummy’s sick. The whining ratchets up a notch, the demand for constant snacks peaks at an all time high, and your toleration levels for every single CBeebies’ theme tune drops like a stone.
Your last remaining thread of self-respect vanishes somewhere around now too. You know, the one that you’ve been clinging to since childbirth. Mum Flu is a race for survival and anything, I mean anything, goes. Last week my sinus infection was so bad, and my fridge so empty, that I slapped two cooling migraine patches over the left side of my face and drove to Tesco’s looking like a demented pirate.
No one tells you how expensive Mum Flu is either, what with all the Disney Magazines/new DVDs/sweets you binge buy to keep the little darlings quiet. Anything to buy you five minutes of peace! And as for early nights? Fat chance… I guarantee that this is when all kids go down with Chicken Pox/Scarlet Fever/D&V etc. Their timing is impeccable. It’s almost as if they relish transforming the entire household into a mass infestation of every single school germ going.
This all happens when my husband’s away of course. And naturally all the kids’ various ailments disappear the minute he walks through the door… Needless to say, I am expecting a very, VERY nice Valentine’s meal this year to make up for it!