It's worse than man flu

BY KERRY WILLIAMSON

I've given a lot to the boy. And he's given a lot to me.

But I could have done without his latest gift - the dreaded baby flu.

Before it hit me, I'd heard all about it. One minute you're singing along to the Wiggles, the next you can't even rasp out a lullaby and you're waking your kid with uncontrollable sneezes.

Other far more experienced parents tell me the baby flu lasts for about 18 years and packs a punch David Tua would be proud of.

They say it's worse than man flu, and after a couple of days with my head in a fog, I can attest to that. I've already taken a day off work, almost downed an entire bottle of vitamin c, and gone through a couple of boxes of tissues.

My brain is addled by pseudoephedrine, my body aches, my eyes are puffy and I've developed a serious addiction to Lemsip.

My head pounds, my nose won't stop running and I can't control my sneezing. I'm a mess and so far there are no signs of recovery.

The worst part though, is telling people what's wrong with me. On Monday, I woke up in a haze and was faced with telling my boss that I'd caught a cold off my kid and wouldn't be coming in to work.

In the end I couldn't do it. I mean, who gets laid out by a baby-cold? Babies, that's who.

So I ended up texting him that I had some kind of horrific illness and would probably be dead in a matter of days. I didn't mention I'd caught a cold off the boy, and when it came to day two, I sucked it up and headed into work.

Workmates asked what was wrong, and I unwisely told them I had the dreaded baby cold. The parents in the office plied me with sympathy; the others simply scoffed and the teasing began.

Guys are at an immediate disadvantage when we get sick. Nobody takes man flu seriously (unless, of course, you happen to be the man with the flu). If you are male and you catch a cold, you are mocked relentlessly and told to harden up.

No matter the fact that you can barely breathe and you cough up vast mountains of snot - man-flu is a joke, and you're a bit of a pussy.

On the other, daintier hand - if you're a woman, then a cold is a serious ailment. You should be waited on hand and foot. Your other half better do all he can to make you comfortable. You are sick and you need loyal support.

And if a man ever dares to mock you, perhaps make a joke about chick flu ... well, that man will be lucky to see the next day.

Us men have learned to take it on the chin. We might be stupid sometimes, but we're not perpetual masochists.

If our womenfolk get sick, we do as we're told until she's well again. We don't question the severity of her sickness. We accept it and knuckle down.

But nobody takes you seriously when you've got baby flu. Nobody - not even my fellow men. I'm sick but I can't get no respect.

I can pinpoint the exact moment when I caught it. I was lying in bed, savouring an all-too-rare snooze, when the wife came into the bedroom holding the boy.

"Come say good morning to your daddy," she said in that high-pitched voice that babies seem to like.

"Come give your daddy-waddy a hug."

She then plonked the boy on my chest, and he promptly coughed in my face then proceeded to wipe snot on my chin.

The wife and the boy thought it was hilarious, but I could feel the baby germs mounting their attack. By evening, I had a tickle in my throat and just like that, the baby cold had taken hold.

It's crazy that something so cute (the boy) can be so dangerous (give me baby flu). I should have known - cute means danger.

I just know my baby flu is going to linger. The boy has had his cough for weeks and it's shown few signs of abating. And the truth is, he'll probably have it for a long time yet.

The boy goes to crèche three times a week. It seems there is always at least one sick kid for the boy to hang out with.

When he's there, he crawls around with other babies, sucks on toys that just seconds before were in the mouth of another kid, and generally scoops up baby germs by the bucket load.

There's just no getting around it.  Germs must love kids - they don't even have to try.

I do feel like a bit of a blouse. My boy is seven months old and he took his baby flu in his stride. He cried a bit more than normal and his cough woke him up at night, but he battled through it.

I've moaned and complained, taken a day off work, taken too many drugs and generally been a miserable person to be around.

I should just get used to it. Baby flu is a part of my new life as a parent, along with gagging while changing nappies. Baby flu is here to stay.

If the boy could talk, I know what he'd say.

"Hey dad ... harden up."

 

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