Parenting Is Not For The Weak

Parenting is never easy if you’re doing it right. But take my word, parenting is not for the weak.

I had every intention of getting back to writing the first week of the year. My kids were supposed to go back to school, and I would get back into my rhythm of getting as much work done while they were at their programs.

But as I started to gather all the Christmas stuff around the house on New Year’s, I felt something in my lungs. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a while. Each breath felt like a struggle. I had a vague memory of this happening when I put the Christmas tree away before. So, I shrugged it off.

But I was wrong. That was just the start of the flu. Soon, the boys and I were infected. The next few days were the toughest days I’ve probably ever had as a parent.

Sick and Tired – Parenting Is Not For The Weak

I heard my youngest crying through my dreams on the third night of my sickness. Groggy, I woke up and glanced at my wife heading out the bedroom door.

I rolled over and looked at the monitor, the light hurting my puffy eyes in the darkness. It was two in the morning, and my youngest sat up in his crib crying. It was that cry that told you something was wrong. I felt tired and helpless, so I lay back down and felt thankful for my wife.

My head still felt heavy, I could feel the virus behind my eyes, yet I couldn’t go back to sleep. After a while, the light upstairs flipped on, and I heard my wife and youngest heading to our room. I lay back and tried to ready the bed for an extra body. As my son curled up with me, my wife informed me that he had thrown up and had a big fever. She worked her magic to get everything cleaned up and provide meds.

We all drifted back to sleep, even though I felt fearful of what was coming for everyone in the house.

Then I was jolted awake again by the monitor. My oldest was crying out for me. I gathered the energy I had and trekked to his room. He couldn’t wait and continued to scream for Dad as I hustled to his room.

I placed my hand on his forehead, but recoiled quickly as his head felt like fire behind his skin. I ran back down the stairs to groggily prepare some pain reliever and a wet cloth.

We lay down, but he wanted to talk. Eventually, we both drifted off to sleep.

The next few days had me taking them to the doctor and taking care of them while we were all sick.

Everyone’s Punching Bag

We spent the next few days on the couch, staring at screens. I remember being a kid, sick, and watching movies all day. So, I tried to go into the situation with that attitude, despite having issues with my five-year-old and his growing addiction to screens.

After being a great medicine-taker, my oldest decided that wasn’t in his best interest. When it was time for his medicine, he got worked up, screamed, and refused. It took me thirty minutes or more to convince him he needed it. I would add candy or a flavored drink to the medicine to entice him. It felt like I had to march into battle twice a day.

Meals became the same. For some reason, my kids turned against me for all their basic needs. They would greet me with silence or grunts when I asked what they would like to eat.

I would try to cook something comforting I knew they would like, but each time, they complained and went on a hunger strike. I would ask what they would like instead, only to be barked at.

Normally, I’m pretty fortunate that my boys eat as well as they do. We can get them to try foods that they think look yucky, with good results. I don’t have much success asking what they want to eat, as they usually only say they want buttered noodles, but the barking felt hostile.

I know that kids can get unruly when they are sick. No one likes to be sick, and it can affect moods. However, I wasn’t prepared to become the enemy, especially since I was doing everything I could to make them feel better.

Nap Attacks

A few days in, my youngest woke up at his normal time, but he struggled to get out of bed. My wife eventually got him out, but he was crankier than usual and only wanted to snuggle on someone.

I made breakfast for everyone and tried to get them to eat. Big brother ate up all his breakfast for once. Meanwhile, little brother couldn’t keep his eyes open. Instead of eating breakfast myself, I took him back to his room to rock and see if I could get him to fall back asleep.

Neither of my kids normally naps.

He did everything he could to stay awake, despite not being able to keep his eyes open. He rolled around on me while I rocked in a way that made me think I was rocking Sonic the Hedgehog. I knew he was tired, so I rocked him for forty-five minutes until he finally fell asleep. He slept for the next three hours, which brought us right to lunchtime for everyone else.

My oldest requested a quesadilla for lunch, which brought relief since he didn’t fight me when I asked what he wanted. Before he tried it, he noticed there was chicken inside it—so he refused it. I asked him if he would like another one without chicken, but by then his speech had devolved into nothing more than grunts. My frustration took over after I asked him a few times how I could help, and after a brief yelling match, he said he would eat a quesadilla with only cheese.

I fired up the stove and threw down the tortilla. The smell of cheese and warmed tortilla filled the air. I had already eaten mine, but the smell made me hungry again. It also brought calm to the house.

Once the food finished cooking, I plated it and brought it over to the table, only to find my son asleep. Which made me feel like a terrible parent after all that had transpired. I tried to pick him up so I could carry him to a more comfortable place to sleep, but he woke up.

He scarfed down some food, then I took him up to his bed for a nap.

Medicine, Screens, and Tablets

If my kids hadn’t taken those naps, I’m not sure that I would have known that they were sick. The medicine masked so many of their symptoms. They very rarely had a fever after starting the medicine. But the tiredness and anger that came with the virus reminded me that they were sick.

Since the medicine masked most of their ailments, it was challenging to gauge the right amount of screen time to give them because they would sometimes go off and play.

My oldest wanted to control the TV the entire time. He discovered Mark Robers’ show on Netflix and watched it on repeat.

But it became hard to know how much screen time to allow. In the first few days, I let the kids watch as much as they wanted, even though they both got up and played. I let my oldest use his tablet for a while, too.

After three or four days, I felt like they needed less screen time. I tried to set up coloring pages, puzzles, and toys that they could play with without having to move too much. But my eldest wanted nothing but screens.

I felt conflicted on what to do, but I tried to err on the side of rest.

One day, I let him use his tablet longer than I should have. I reasoned that he was sick and tired. We have also had issues with him getting off his tablet, as it usually triggers a toddler rage. But his brother had fallen asleep on the couch beside us, and I felt tired, too.

I’ve been debating whether limiting his tablet usage is worsening it, so I thought this would be a great test.

After a long time on his tablet, I told him it was time to get off. He complained, then told me, “No.”

After being so frustrated with him, I gave him a few chances to turn it off and apologize, but I was getting pretty frustrated myself after all I had gone through.

Instead of turning it off, he got meaner and tried to hide his tablet from me. I tried using Screen Time to shut off his game, but it didn’t work. Ultimately, and regretfully, I pushed the button to turn the thing off.

This launched him into a tirade.

As he screamed as loud as he could, I picked him up and tried to take him to my room nearby with the door shut, since I would rather not wake his brother. I put us on the bed and tried to hold and comfort him, but he just wanted to yell and hit me.

As he continued to scream as loud as he could, I worried that the door wouldn’t be enough to block the screams. I carried him to my closet next and sat down with him on the floor.

It took a long time to help him calm his rage. Once he did, he said he regretted it all, so I feel like I did make some progress on the device.

Afterward and Reflecting

The kids eventually recovered from the virus, but the funk it brought lingered. I’m not entirely sure whether the virus brought with it the anger that followed, or whether my actions caused it.

I have honestly never done anything as difficult as caring for the three of us while we were all sick with the flu. The tiredness and crankiness that ran through the house made that entire week and the ones after miserable.

I had never felt so down and hard on myself as a parent as I did this week. So, please, hold your criticism of me.

I made mistakes throughout the whole thing, and I intend to learn from them. I’m not sure how I’m going to get my kids to eat—already a difficult task most days—when they aren’t feeling well, but I’ll try to be more patient. Since then, I’ve limited my son’s tablet time even further, but I have a lot to say about it for a future blog post.

Please be kind if you read this. Everyone has their view on parenting, and I’m trying my best as a stay-at-home parent. I never want to upset my kids, nor cause lasting harm where they have to be in therapy, but parenting is hard.

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