I used to think the worst thing in the world is when your kids are sick.
Now I know the worst thing is when your kids are sick, and you are sick, too.
My poor babies, your noses are literal faucets. You haven’t slept. You are cranky and needy and require my undivided attention, but unfortunately with twins that is what I must do, I must divide. I cannot physically lift you both at the same time anymore. Someone gets left at the knees, crying with a glob of snot bubbling from their nose or maybe smeared to the cheek, to the hair, or a real doozy, to the throat, being told one minute, baby, one minute!, as sweetly and unnaturally high-pitched as possible.
Meanwhile, I am in my own personal “Trainspotting.”
I am on Mucinex D, or maybe Aleve Sinus D, either way this “D” means some serious business. My heart is racing. I am sweating but I do not have a fever. I’ve taken my temperature three times in a row and it keeps coming up 96.6. That is low, right? (Isn’t that low?) At some point I blew my nose so hard I clogged my right ear and that’s my good ear, so now everything sounds like I am underwater.
Maybe I am underwater? No. I’m just hallucinating. I haven’t slept. I’ve watched Lady and the Tramp 1700 times. I keep noticing how many rugs Jim Dear and Darling have, they have area rugs on top of wall-to-wall carpets. Maybe this was the style then, the look of an ABC Warehouse. Maybe their house was cold…
It is in the state that I am in charge today. No school today; we are housebound and I am whipping up activities. We just finger-painted and only 1/4 of the basement rug is now red, which isn’t bad. I’m thinking instead of disinfecting the house when we’re all better to just take a torch to it anyway–the task is too daunting–so go ahead, let’s spill on the carpets away. (Or, less drastic, maybe I can call an exterminator?) Later we are baking cookies. It’s okay that they’ll be dusted with germs and possibly mixed in with mucous because we’ll be the only ones home to eat them. Your father is in DC. He hated to leave us this morning; this is an aspect of his work that I know is very tough.
(Your dad misses you guys very much.)
But these are the things he must do for his job.
And today, me sick but mustering everything I have to keep it together for you guys, is part of mine.
So no more complaining starting…now. I must buck up.