Mud & Mayhem

You know the one.

You’re mid-meeting, mid-email, mid-something-you-absolutely-cannot-step-away-from, and your phone lights up with the daycare number. Your stomach drops. You already know. It’s never good news. Nobody from daycare calls to say “hey, just wanted to let you know everything is great over here.”

It’s always a sick kid. And it’s always — always — the worst possible week for it.

Not a slow Tuesday with nothing on the calendar. No. It’s the week you have non-refundable tickets, a work trip, a big presentation, or your husband is already three states away for a conference. The universe has a very specific sense of humor when it comes to daycare calls.

And let’s talk about the financial gut punch for a second. You have to leave work early, potentially burn PTO, and there is absolutely no money back option on daycare. In Minnesota, the median cost of daycare is pushing $38,000 a year. Thirty. Eight. Thousand. So when you’re packing up your laptop at 11am to go pick up a feverish toddler, you are doing it at a premium. Salt. In. The. Wound.

Also — and I’m just saying this out loud — the number of midday Friday calls is borderline suspicious. Just an observation.

Now. For those of you without kids, or those of you who have conveniently developed daycare amnesia — those tiny humans catch everything. I’m 39 years old. I thought I had a solid immune system. A little cocky about it, honestly. Weird flex, but I felt good about where I stood health-wise.

Then my kids started daycare and humbled me in ways I did not see coming.

Turns out there is an entire universe of illnesses I had simply never been introduced to. We’re talking sick at a level where you’re lying on the bathroom floor at home and still wishing you could go home. Calling for your mom. Reconsidering all of your life choices.

After my first kid I thought — okay, we survived. We’re conditioned now. Immune systems leveled up.

Then my second started and I got hand, foot, and mouth disease. As an adult.

Super fun. Would not recommend. 10 out of 10 humbling experience.

On one hand, I’m genuinely disappointed in my immune system. On the other hand, I suppose I should be grateful I can still be surprised. I just wish the universe would aim its surprises somewhere else — a check in the mail, a flight upgrade, anything. That extra legroom absolutely slaps and I think I’ve earned it.

What horrifying biblical illness did your tiny humans drag home and pass directly to you? Tell me I’m not alone in the comments.