I just got over a tragic 3-day stomach flu. Tragic I tell you. “Moms don’t get sick days” is one of those things you hear all the time in Huffington Post patenting articles, and see on motivational Instagram accounts alongside a stock photo of a cup of coffee with a big heart drawn around it in crayon. Such an endearing little thing to say. Except the reality is not cute at all. Being sick for a few days when you have kids to take care of is a dark, wretched experience. To me it’s like my primal caveman forces get so threatened by the fact that I’m unable to take care of my children properly that I turn into some sort of evil, lashing out monster (MOMster, get it? Hahaha…sob). This time I couldn’t even unpack the groceries, and gave the responsibility to my husband who I then yelled at for putting all the stuff in the wrong place because apparently my inner cave person is a control freak. I can only imagine how mad she gets when her cave husband hangs her best Saber-toothed tiger skin dress on a wire hanger in their cave closet, or the dinosaur pizza guy is running late and everyone is hungry. Luckily I don’t get sick that often but if you’re really wondering what it’s like, I was watching The Exorcist on TV a few weeks ago. I said, “I used to think this movie was kind of scary, but now she seems totally normal to me. That’s just me when I’m sick.” My husband didn’t argue.