So here I am, grappling with what feels like a chest infection. Who knows, it could be anything from pneumonia to the bubonic plague. As a self-employed mother of two, visiting the doctor ranks low on my priority list—right around number 57—so I’m opting for self-medication and just riding it out.
After a particularly vigorous coughing episode last night, I found myself reminiscing about those luxurious days before kids, where being sick felt like a mini-vacation. I’d wake up on a Monday with a slight sniffle (and often a hangover), put on my best Oscar-worthy raspy voice, and call my boss to declare my “unavailability.” I’d feign concern for my coworkers, insisting it was in everyone’s best interest for me to stay home and recover. He would agree, and I’d celebrate my unexpected day off in silence.
Ah, back in the days when working from home meant cozying up in PJs and indulging in daytime TV marathons. I’d sleep until noon, whip up a bacon sandwich (purely for medicinal purposes, of course), and enjoy every moment of my illness. Occasionally, my mom would swing by with homemade chicken soup, or my then-boyfriend-now-husband would call, offering to pick up cough drops and aloe-infused tissues. Those were the days I truly miss!
Now, however, I find myself in a different reality. Living in Spain, my mom’s comforting soup would arrive too cold or, worse, spilled. When I mention I’m feeling under the weather, she chuckles—not out of malice, but with a knowing attitude, as if to say, “Welcome to motherhood; I’ve been waiting for you to join this club.” After all, she’s been patiently watching me endure the same challenges I once put her through.
She imparts her latest mom wisdom: if we mothers dare to fall ill, we must do so while standing upright. Sympathy? Forget it. Concern? Not a chance. Help? Only when you’re on the brink of death. Until then, keep your family from worrying about your well-being—even if you’re coughing like a chain smoker.
She also reminded me that since I hosted a birthday party for my two-year-old just three days after giving birth to her sister, I’ve set a high expectation for myself, one from which I cannot descend. My husband, too, seems unfazed. This morning, after keeping our household awake with my honking cough—likely alarming the neighbors—he suggested, “How about you sleep in the spare room tonight? I have a busy day ahead and need my rest.”
So, I press on. After a week of relentless coughing and hacking, I discovered an old packet of antibiotics that the internet assured me would help with a chest infection. I’ve also consumed some mysterious black syrup that smells like it might have come from the depths of a witch’s cauldron. Neither remedy seems effective, but at least I’m giving it my best shot!
On the second week, my voice has morphed into that of a gravelly old man, which I like to imagine sounds alluring. In reality, it simply means I can’t hit the high notes on Disney songs anymore—much to my kids’ relief. This afternoon, during a particularly intense coughing spell, I found myself on the phone with a client while my vegetables boiled over and my three-year-old yelled from the bathroom that she was done.
After hanging up, I stumbled to the bathroom, doubled over, tears streaming down my face, struggling to catch my breath. My five-year-old rushed in, concern etched on her face. “Don’t worry,” I wheezed, gripping the towel rail for support. “Mummy is fine.”
“I know,” she replied, “I just want to know when dinner will be ready.”
And there you have it, folks: that’s the essence of being ill while standing tall in the world of motherhood.
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Summary:
The article humorously explores the challenges of being a self-employed mother dealing with illness. It contrasts the carefree sick days of pre-children life with the realities of motherhood, where sympathy and help are scarce. The author navigates her illness while managing family demands, highlighting the resilience required of mothers.
Keyphrase: self-employed mom illness
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