The man flu struck at my house last weekend. My husband is probably going to give me the silent treatment for a week over this column, but he knows every word of it is true. Bless him!

This man who proudly served in the United States Army, who spent two back-breaking days sinking fence posts when I brought home a rescue horse, and who bravely handles all the snakes who find their way too close to my house, is brought to his knees when he gets sick. It doesn’t matter if it’s a sinus infection or full-on COVID-19, my guy is going to have you thinking he is at death’s door when he doesn’t feel well.

And ladies, we know he isn’t alone! What is it about a man that puts him moaning and groaning over the effort it takes to flip his pillow over after he’s sneezed once? One sneeze is not sick! Oh, the drama! It can’t be a sore throat; a man will tell you that his throat is raw. They don’t get a stomach bug, instead a man will tell you that he’s having violent stomach cramps that are tearing his stomach walls apart. It’s been said before that mankind would have died out long ago if men had to go through the experience, discomfort, and pain of pregnancy and childbirth. I don’t think that statement is wrong.

My husband had a stomach virus last weekend. It required him to take his temperature with two different thermometers. You know, in case the first one wasn’t correct. He was strong enough to check his phone, but he could not cross the room to flip the light switch. And he could not help bring in firewood or with animal chores, but he had the energy to take a call from a buddy. As he croaked out his feeble goodnight to the kids, I wondered if I was going to have to have him admitted. Or make that committed.

I had a stomach virus last weekend as well. My experience did not require me to take my temperature. It had me emptying the dishwasher, feeding the kids dinner, and starting a load of laundry. I moved a little slower than I normally do, but you would have felt the gravitational pull of the Earth weaken if I had laid down for an entire day. It’s just not something a mom does. As a mom, you can be sick laying in bed or you can be sick getting your household work done – one is going to result in your entire weekend being spent playing catch up, you choose.

Some of you will think I am too hard on the hubby, after all, all men suffer from the man flu. It’s not his fault; it’s in his DNA. It’s irresistible to give the hubs a hard time about such things because as much as he thought he was, my husband was not deathly ill. I do, occasionally, wonder if I will miss the signs if he ever were to become legitimately sick. He never stubs his toe; he always almost breaks it. It’s really a fine line.

Many years ago, he was sick when I was seven months pregnant. Apparently, I wasn’t expressing the proper amount of sympathy to that year’s man flu. He got frustrated with me and said, “You would be more sympathetic if you knew what it felt like to feel like something was going to rip your stomach out from the inside out.” Oh wait, you mean childbirth? Again, mankind really should be thankful and hopefully you understand what I am dealing with over here.

Fortunately, this time it was a quick stomach bug and sunrise brought a swift recovery for the hubby. He will live to hang the patio lights I bought for the sun porch (which a tremendous relief in case you can’t tell). Let me echo the sentiment you hear near and far these days – if you’re sick, stay home. I can’t survive another round of the man flu at my house!

As a mom, you can be sick laying in bed or you can be sick getting your household work done – one is going to result in your entire weekend being spent playing catch up, you choose.