Picture this: it’s 2 am. My kiddo is mouth breathing, loudly as she’s whining trying to fall asleep. Poor kid is running a fever. She’s drooling and scratching her face because she’s teething. No one in this household have slept well for weeks.

Everyone warned me that starting daycare will be rough. Everyone said oh hey, you’ll be sick all the time, your kid will be sick all the time, you’ll be miserable.

How bad could it be, right? Well, it’s bad. I don’t have a thesis for this post, I just need to vent. And yeah, sick kiddo is why I’m almost a week behind my (self-imposed) writing schedule.

Because over the past month this child was supposed to be in daycare (which isn’t cheap, mind you), she’s been home at least 50% of the time. And oh how I wish I could just blame daycare and say they don’t want to deal with yet-another-whiny-and-snotty-kid, I also empathize with both the overworked daycare employees who want to send her home.

Being a daycare worker isn’t easy, and I’m sure constant crying doesn’t help. When we were touring daycares, we’ve noticed something interesting: every place posts pictures, names, and mini-resumes for their teachers - and what stands out to me is that many have 1-2 years of experience. Not just at the daycare we picked, but among the majority of places we’ve toured.

Turns out daycare workers have a significantly above average turnover - like a press release from Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland indicating that the “turnover among childcare workers was 65% higher than turnover of median occupation”. The wages are low, the hyper-vigilance needed to keep infants and toddlers alive takes a toll on a nervous system, and the job is mostly sedentary - with lots of sitting on the floor and baby chairs watching the little demons crawl around.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, I don’t know what daycare workers are going through, but I empathize.

But I also empathize with myself (d’oh), working half-days and taking unexpected time off as my clingy, cranky, annoyed toddler wants demands some kind of attention. The kiddo’s sick and wants to be held 24/7. But you know what else? She gets bored, so she wants to play. But it’s hard to play when you’re being held. So crying tends to be a good solution.

And all of that is on top of the fact that this disease-ridden potato has gotten me sick, 4 times and counting in the past 3 months. Her and mom get pretty sick, but - probably because mom’s body is working for two - they do mostly fine. Sick, but manageable.

I on the other hand just feel like I’m barely able to survive some days. Everything hurts, and nothing helps. I used to like being sick, in the same ways I love rainy days. You get an excuse to veg out - yeah, it’s unpleasant, but you get to binge your favorite shows or play some sick-friendly games. You order in or your partner cooks for you. You drink tea and such. It’s cozy.

And most importantly for someone who struggles to sit still, I don’t feel any guilt for doing nothing. It’s nice.

But being sick with a kid - hell no. Gone is the guilt-free experience. Kid’s sick, wife’s sick, I’m sick. We’re all rotating through our chores, we all have our roles to play. One of us soothes the baby, one of us cooks and cleans, one of us cries and leaves a trail of snot on the floor.

So yeah, here I am, on my 4th sickness, taking a breather to write up this note while mom took the kiddo to get some fresh air.

Send help. No, really - shoot me an email to tell me I’m not alone and you’ve survived this. Or maybe tell me why you also enjoy how being sick gives you a permission to be lazy. Someone please normalize my experience!