Monday, January 30, 2012

Moms don't get sick days

The older girls are sick. I had hoped the stomach bug that every other kid in our area has would pass us by, but this morning started with me throwing sheets into the washing machine on "Sanitary" and Lysol-ing the bathroom, so I am guessing we're the lucky new ones. I keep telling myself that relatively close by, there's a town dealing with a whooping cough resurgence (and really? That's an entirely different post) and I should count my blessings, but when you're doing laundry before dawn, that's a hard perspective to keep.

That's all the particulars I'll give. No one wants a standing record of sickness in detail. I will say, however, that sickness has an interesting way of completely inverting personality. For instance, Mary, who doesn't know the meaning of "slow down" or "quiet time" stayed in bed until almost 10 a.m. I offered to set her up on the couch with a blanket and a movie (Anna was already deep into Toy Story 3 at that point) but she quietly (!) said "No thank you, I'll stay here" and did, for several hours past normal wake time.

Anna was also physically subdued, a combination of feeling gross and not eating much as a result, but was oddly chatty with me. Mostly, we re-capped the early morning grossness until she was done talking about it, but she also wanted to have elaborate dialogues with Little People as the medium and play with all of Lily's toys (which I was loathe to let her do. I am clinging to a faint hope that somehow, Lily will not be next on the list).

I was queasy but holding on well. Which was good, because the littlest member of the household was not willing to tow the party line and sit quietly. Lily is teething, so today was round after round of hand chewing, sniffling and power-napping. Not much downtime in there for me, so I did our taxes (I know, I know, you can't stand the excitement).

That was this afternoon. By the end of the day, I was feeling much woozier but Mary and Anna were perking up. Tim gave them chicken noodle soup. Mary asked for seconds cheerfully, but we opted to hold off and see how things went. I was optimistic. There was no stomach bug, just something they ate. Maybe it was that garlic bread. Maybe they just ate too much the night before. Maybe it was some 24 hour thing. Maybe -

"Daddy, my tummy hurts."

The last time she said that to me, I made the mistake of asking "What do you mean? How does it hurt?" and the results were disgusting. Parenting 101: Don't ask why, reach for a bowl and pray.

The long journey past bedtime has just begun.

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