When I was a kid, sick days were the best. I was pampered by my mom or my grandma, and got to read books on the couch all day. I got to drink pop (which was a rare occurrence), and I got to watch TV. During the day. It was incredible.

As a parent, sick days are a little different; for one thing, you’re still responsible for energetic little ones bouncing off the walls. If your home is a ship, then you are the captain of it so to speak. I am very thankful for my husband, who took care of the wee things solo for a couple days while I was in the worst of it. Strep throat is no fun.

But then he went down. My co-captain went down with norovirus.

So we took shifts with the kids which involved trying to play with them or entertain them, and then feeling too sick and weak, giving up, and turning to the inevitable iPad. Goddam thing. So the screen became the first officer of our ship, (thank you, Cocomelon, for babysitting), supported by second officer junk food. Our kids got to eat McDonald’s, Mac n’ cheese out of a box, and something else that I’m sure was as junky as the rest but I can’t remember because I was seriously out of it.

We were in survival. And then our older son got a fever. He gets febrile seizures so whenever his temperature gets high we get understandably anxious around our house. Thank goodness it was short-lived and no seizures were involved.

I knew my antibiotics had begun to work when I was able to feel the guilt seeping in for letting my kids eat so much crap and have so much screen time. And then my gaze expanded and I saw a literal wasteland left in the wake of our stormy week.

I can get over the mess because as much as it bothers me in the moment, it can get cleaned up. It will be ok. What I cannot get over is my guilt at letting my kids be raised by Cocomelon for a few days. And yes, we were in survival mode, and yes, we don’t live near family or help (except for lovely Lisbeth who took our dog out for exercise one day), and so maybe I should cut myself some slack. But those perfectionist tendencies run deep, y’all. Nobody can talk me out of a good emotional self-flagellation.

Silver lining? As of right now, the kids have not caught my strep throat as I’ve been wearing a mask around them 24/7. (God, I hope I have not just jinxed myself.)

And the most important thing? At least I have still retained my beauty.