When the routine falls apart

It was one of those mornings.

His heavy, congested breathing the night before already told us what was coming. We’d agreed that he’d be staying home, and even prepped big brother that he’d have to be up earlier so dad could send him to school. The little one’s stuffy nose, the unmistakable heaviness of a small body fighting something off. Another day home from preschool.

We go through this almost every other week. He’s not even two yet, but between preschool colds and the revolving door of viruses, it sometimes feels like we’re on a first-name basis with every strain making the rounds.

So this morning, our usual rhythm fell apart before it even began.

There was no rushing out the door, no quick tidy-up before diving into work. It feels like every time he starts settling back into his routine, another round of sniffles hits. Preschools, I’ve decided, are basically training grounds for immune systems and for parents learning to let go of control.

When my kids get sick, my own rhythm unravels. Everything else takes a back seat, and the house shifts into a random, more chaotic gear. There’s this familiar tension between wanting to keep up with work and wanting to just sit beside them, to hold space for their rest and mine.

I’ve learned to give myself grace on days like these.

I don’t always get it right, but here’s what helps me reset:

Stay calm.
It’s easy to spiral when the to-do list piles up and emails start pinging, but panic helps no one. Taking a breath, even a short one, keeps me grounded enough to do what needs to be done. I've also realised that shouting just causes even more chaos.

Screens are not the enemy.
Working from home with the kids around means the iPad steps in a lot more. I used to feel guilty about it, but I’ve made peace with knowing it’s okay. Educational games, gentle shows, or just something comforting, it gives me space to catch up, and them something familiar to focus on.

Keep it simple.
There’s something freeing about serving plain noodles or rice with soup when everyone’s low on energy. Kids love “grey food,” the less complicated, the better. Simple meals mean we’re fed and sane, and that’s enough.

Make things accessible.
The dining table is my default workstation. I'm set up here while the kids draw, snack, or just play nearby. It keeps me within reach, and them feeling secure. The living area becomes our shared workspace, a mix of productivity and presence.

Cleaning can wait.
Not because it overwhelms me, but because it distracts me. It’s easy to convince myself that putting back the toys or cleaning up the kitchen is urgent, when really, what matters is being present. The dishes can wait. The moments won’t.

Parenthood doesn’t pause for sick days. The work continues, just in different ways. Sometimes it’s holding a boogery child while typing one-handed. Sometimes it’s choosing rest over productivity.

These days remind me that grace isn’t something we earn; it’s something we allow.

So if your little one is sick again and you’re juggling it all with weary eyes and a full heart, know that you’re not alone. Take a deep breath, order that simple lunch, and let the day be what it needs to be.

You’re doing better than you think.