They may be beloved grandchildren who give bragging rights to their doting grandparents, but my kids are also – at least in my in-laws’ eyes – walking germ factories. Any sleepover or babysitting comes at a price: they may clamor to spend time with the kids, but any illness that develops over the next three weeks is resolutely explained away as “something I had to catch grandchildren.”
They are busy retirees with lots of things to do and endless opportunities to catch a bug or catch a cold, but the cause of any illness is always the same. It’s not the city breaks to Lisbon, the evenings at the theater, the sessions in a crowded gym, the visit to a nursing home or the outpatient hospitalization. No, according to my in-laws, any pain or sore throat can be blamed on our children. We then get long, drawn out explanations about their symptoms, how their sleep has been affected, and how floored they feel. I think it’s a cry for sympathy on their part, but it only infuriates me.
Although I would always avoid any family gatherings if I had a snotty child, our children become the scapegoats for any health problems in the family. In the past, cases of shingles, flu, chest infections and even sneezing that turned out to be hay fever have been unfairly blamed on our children. Sure, I know playgrounds and classrooms are breeding grounds for germs, but it’s like my in-laws think they can do it. only catching bugs from school-aged children. What bothers me is that we are blessed with healthy children. They hardly miss any school due to health problems and are, for the most part, quite robust children.
My mother-in-law is also confidently broadcasting that the cough or cold she believes she caught in one of our children is now spreading to the rest of the family – leaving one of our poor children labeled as patient zero. I’m not prepared to raise children who complain and act pathetic over every minor illness, so the endless talk about the illness we all have to suffer from is not ideal.
Obviously it wore thin, especially with me. My husband tends to shrug off unwelcome remarks about our germ-infested children, or ignore them altogether, but nonetheless, the second our seat belts are on and we step away from the car, we begin a heated debate – but muffled.
This means I tend to approach Sunday lunches, outings, or invitations to see extended family with apprehension, even fear. I feel my hackles rise when the inevitable health-based blame begins, but I know I can’t retract my true opinion for fear of offending the older generation and ruffling too many feathers. Instead, I bite my tongue, but it’s my husband who bears the brunt of my frustration a few hours later.
In an effort to appease me, one of my husband’s chosen phrases is “they won’t change.” Which I suppose is true, but it seems to make the decision to blame all illnesses at our own doorsteps even more unfair. His solution is to simply ignore the harsh remarks and carry on as we have been doing. That’s one way to deal with it, I suppose, but I feel angry, fed up and more than a little sick about the situation.
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