Every parent knows that when one child comes down with a fever, it’s only a matter of time before everyone in the house gets sick. It’s like Russian Roulette with germs — everyone staring silently at each other, eyes darting around, wondering who’s going to go down next.
This week it was August who was patient zero, starting with a cough on Monday night. Next to get hit was Emmy, who puked on Wednesday and now, as of yesterday, I have a sore throat. So that leaves Bill and Buck still standing and if my calculations are correct, they should be shivering under blankets by Saturday and Monday.
Even on the best days, our house is in a constant state of barely controlled chaos. But when the chaos controller (me) doesn’t feel well, things get out of hand. Dishes pile up, toys are everywhere… empty bowls of cereal in the bathroom. Who has been eating in the bathroom?
But the worst is the laundry. And it’s not just because we’re sick that the laundry has piled up. It’s far more strange than that. Several of our chickens have started to lay eggs in our washer/dryer area and every time I go out to try and do the laundry, they start screaming at me. And I don’t mean clucking. I mean, a full on chicken scream that lasts for a half hour. They carry on so horribly that they have conditioned me to feel tense when I even touch the handle of the laundry room door.
Just shoo them off the laundry, you say… you’re the boss, you say… Well, talk to my therapist because I hate discord so much that I even avoid confronting chickens. (We all have our issues.) At first this chicken/laundry situation was really frustrating for me not only for practical reasons, but it shined a light on one of my glaring dysfunctions.
But then, I started to enjoy it. I got on board the chicken/laundry train. Moms get blamed for everything all the time. If we’re late for something or a dentist appointment is forgotten or someone didn’t bring their raincoat in the car — it’s all our faults! So unfair!
So now when my kids ask why their judo outfits aren’t clean or why they have no underwear for school and have to wear a bathing suit bottom instead or why they have to use a small dish towel to dry off after a shower, I just shrug and say, “Why don’t you go talk to that chicken on the laundry.”
And while you’re at it, get the egg off my bra.