I wasn’t sure anything could top what undoubtedly was the crappiest Christmas on record, but safe to say, this cold I caught has taken top honors.
Why? It’s just a cold. You’ve had these before, right? Yes, but the consequences are different this time, and they’ve got me depressed, lonely and miserable.
The runny nose and sneezing doesn’t bother me in the slightest. The body aches, meh they’re no big deal. The phlegmy cough? No problem. What’s really bothering me is that I can’t play with, or even get near the babies, for fear of infecting them.
If I got them sick, passed on to them even with the mildest of sniffles, we could be sunk. It’s rough enough taking care of these two when they’re in perfect health, as ‘perfect health’ includes spells of gassiness, fussy fits, explosive yellow shits, etc.
Granted, it’s liable to happen someday, likely even, that they’ll both be sick at the same time. Obviously though, we want to avoid this as long as possible.
So, I’ve been relieved of all baby-related duties until further notice. I haven’t changed but a single diaper in three days. I haven’t burped a single baby. I haven’t been spit up on, shat upon, or riled into a frustrated mental knot.
And I miss it. Terribly.