Sandpaper tissues are the go if Mum's sick
WE ARE no strangers to illness in this house. I cannot recall the last time we went longer than a week between doctor's visits.
Even the dog is on weekly vet's visits at the moment as we try to treat her arthritis.
But earning your frequent flyer points at Emergency and the doctor's office is just the way it goes when you have a hundred kids - even more so when you have one with chronic illnesses like we do.
It's so much a part of our regular routine that illness doesn't even really faze us anymore.
Except, of course, when it's me who gets sick.
When mum gets sick, the whole house panics. Just kidding. Because to panic, they would have to first actually notice. You see, there's a fairly marked difference in how things roll when I'm sick, and how everyone else is when they're sick.
I don't get to lounge around in bed while someone brings me soup and butter menthols, because I have to get out of bed to cook the soup.
And answer the phone to direct the shopper to where the butter menthols might be.
You might think this is an exaggeration, but Modern Dad once rang me while he was in a supermarket in Hervey Bay to ask me where an item was. While I was in Sydney.
Because why would you ask someone who worked there when your wife could tell you from 1200km away?
When someone else has a cold, Modern Dad will say, "let's get some of those aloe vera tissues for their poor little noses".
When one of the kids points out that my nose is red raw from blowing it on sandpaper for the past three days, Modern Dad says, "oh yeah".
It's not just Modern Dad though. The kids can be pretty unforgiving.
I rarely get more than 30 seconds of shut-eye before someone wants something to eat, or someone looked at the other one with a mean face, or "but you said we were going to the park", or something else ridiculous interrupts.
So realistically, the best medicine for me is a hefty dose of Suck It Up Princess.
There's still dinners to be made, and fights to be refereed; socks to be located and bills to be paid. Gone are the days of languishing in my sick bed sleeping my sickness away.
Would I have it any other way? Of course not.
But as I seem to be down to toilet paper to blow my nose on, if someone could point Modern Dad in the direction of the good tissues that would be ace.
Being ill caps off a pretty ordinary few days
BEING sick just capped off a pretty ordinary week in the Modern House.
We had narrowly averted pet snake disaster in all that hot weather.
Let's just say I never would have predicted having that conversation when I was a little girl playing pretend, and leave it at that.
Then I had a sleepless night of possibly my favourite game - is this pain indigestion or a heart attack?
But the winner was Thursday, driving home from One Mile.
Well actually, on the way out there, the Things were whinging about a weird smell, but I was a bit lost due to roadworks so just told them to stop being boofheads.
Turns out I should have listened, because that smell was my radiator.
And then, of course, the torrential rain started.
I'd been hanging out for something to break the heat, but trying to keep three kids entertained while waiting to be rescued in sideways rain wasn't the greatest experience.
The She Devil lost a lemon at the HMAS Ipswich display.
On the upside, we had all of Queens Park to ourselves, so there's your silver lining.
Not much of a silver lining to seeing your undriveable car being towed though.