A sick house

The Dad Diary
Edwin McGreal

You often hear parents talking about the transformative effect that having kids has on their lives. There’s a massive dent in your social life, no weekend lie-ins, little time to relax in the evening and watch TV and, in general, life as you know it is never the same again. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world,” most parents are quick to add.
Before we had kids, I thought that this was a bit of internal psychology, parents trying to stave off any feelings of regrets. But it is a fair comment. There are so many lovely little moments with your kids in every single day that give you the warmest feeling. Life is different, but it’s also better ... except when they are sick.
Now, believe me, if there’s a week when you would want your old life back, it is the week your kids are sick. You need all of your energy for dealing with your children, as everything is out of sync, from their appetite to their ability to sleep to their general mood.
Trouble is, when the kids are sick, there’s a good chance Mam and Dad will be too. So the one time you need excess energy, your fuel gauge is in the red too.
If you’re lucky, there will be different degrees of sickness in the house. If it’s a two-child household like ours, one child and one parent might be at the height of their sickness but another child and the other parent might not be quite as bad, so you can get by.
But it is a full-time job, and that’s before you even think of your actual full-time job! Anything non-essential at home gets pushed to one side. Takeaway food takes over and relatives step into the breach too to offer a very welcome helping hand.
The day becomes a series of questions rather than any conversations. Is the kettle boiled? Has Frankie had her dinner? What was Éamon’s temperature the last time? Did he get his lunchtime antibiotic? Whose turn is it to get up? Are you going insane as well?
It was myself and Frankie who were sick first – so we’re to blame for bringing it into the house! As we were improving, Aisling started coming down with it. It looked like Éamon might escape, which would have been quite the achievement given he has to be held by his parents for long parts of the day.
Wishful thinking. He picked it up later in the week.
The weekend before last, it looked as though we were out of the woods, but then Aisling got laid low with a bad dose of flu (I won’t ever call a cold ‘the flu’ again) and tonsillitis.
It’s an eye-opener for me when Aisling is bed bound. The amount of work I have to do makes me realise just how much work she must do on a day-to-day basis without me realising it.
We’ve had five trip to the doctor’s. I’m the only one who’s managed to avoid a visit and escape the antibiotics. Otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this column!

In his fortnightly column, Edwin McGreal charts the ups and downs of the biggest wake-up call of his life: parenthood.