Am I the Only Germaphobe Mom?

Answer: Probably not. But I won’t get to know any of you other mommas because we’re all hiding from the flu, RSV, cancer, etc. in our Cold War fallout shelters in the basement.

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I’m riding the antibiotic train right now. Not because I voluntarily want to leach it out into my son’s delicious breastmilk; because I’m sick and tired of being sick.

Oddly, I’m the only one in the house feeling like crap. Usually the toddler brings something home, and then my husband gets it and proceeds to die a slow death over and over and over. This time it’s just me. Or it’s the lingering after effects of a sick husband from a few weeks ago. I think it’s ok to blame him. I do that a lot.

I finally sought out an IRL doctor’s advice as opposed to only consulting Dr. Google. He told me I could wait out the sore throat and hacking cough and if I was lucky it might not turn into bronchitis. But because I’m not getting much sleep (thanks 2-month old!) and I’m wrangling two kids during the day, he said he’d prescribe me some medication if I desired.

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Rather than stick to my granola-inspired, med-free nursing mantra, I caved. After a week of feeling like total crap, and the week prior feeling like kind-of crap, I knew I needed to med up before I broke down completely.

Not 24 hours after scarfing down a pink horse pill, I felt a million time better. Now my healing body is trying to convince me to lug my children to playdates and story times and the gym in the middle of flu season. “Get out of the house! You feel amazing! Do it or your brain is going to turn to mush, you shut-in!”

Must. Resist. The little will be 3 months old in just a couple of weeks. After that we can all dance the germ tango. Not quite yet; we’ve got to play the germaphobe card a bit longer. I just wish it’d snow. Then people would stop making fun of me for locking the family away.

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