Monday, November 26, 2012

95% Healthy

Sorry, it was hydrocodone in my cough syrup. Whatever. It was an opioid. It was magic. It gave me a weird rash.

Isn't that just awesome? Cough relentlessly for a week, nearly bruise a rib, wake up one morning feeling ready to be human, and oh, your face looks like the opener of a movie involving the CDC.

Okay, so it wasn't that bad, but I do look like I went back in time about fifteen years.

Christmas tree is up. It's the saddest Christmas tree in the land, but it's still Christmas! We discovered yesterday that putting 300 lights on a tiny tree makes it look less sad. Mostly because your corneas are seared, and you can longer see.

We put it up last night after the girls went to bed. When Grace got up this morning, she was so transfixed that she lay down on the floor in front of it and went back to sleep. I don't know how. It's like the surface of the sun.

Speaking of which, certain smallish ones have arisen from their naps. One is pressing her gigantic head into my collarbone and calling it "cuddling." It's dreadfully uncomfortable. I should go.

Monday, November 12, 2012

I'm writing this because otherwise you'll all get messages about how wonderful you and your pretty hair are

Very suddenly this turned into worst cough I've ever had in my life. Last night was horrible, and I'm amazed Jeremy didn't murder my coughing self in our bed.

Minutes after I wrote that last entry, my kids turned into magical fairies of care and concern. It was uncanny, almost creepy, even.

Grace brings me stuff constantly. She drapes blankets and sweaters on me (her sweaters; they're comically tiny lying there across my shoulders to keep me warm), brings me Kleenexes (I woke up this morning to Grace bouncing across the bed and laying a folded-up Kleenex next to my head), and periodically wanders over and pats me, cooing, "I hope you feel better soon. Can I bring you anything?" Emmy hasn't been quite so... caretake-y, but she's certainly been on her best behavior. I love how these evil little buggers can surprise me with such sweetness, just when I need it most.

Jeremy has done all the work around here for the last few days, despite being sick himself (we all got this stupid cold, but I got the most special version). He called into work this morning, took Grace preschool, and schlepped me and Emmy to Instacare, then all the way back in the other direction to the pharmacy and home again.

The rest has been a phenomenal Vicodin cough syrupy haze of weird, fantastical dreams and meditation on how much I love everyone. It's pretty amazing, and totally worth the horrible cough. I tell you what, 666 Park Avenue is a pretty trippy show when you're high.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

I have The Wonderful Wizard of Ha's memorized

Before I had kids, I thought it was totally stupid how people whined about being sick with kids. Being sick is awesome! You sit around watching shows all day, no guilt! The kids will watch their own shows or play all day! Just like when I was a kid! It'll be great!

Except that my memories of illness only went back to age six or so. Children under age five have no mercy or empathy. They can't get their own food. They need their butts wiped. They start shrieking if you duct tape them to the wall for too long. It's really miserable.

One of us brought something horrible home from somewhere. Probably Grace, from that germ-ridden spawning pool known as preschool. It's like the worst cold ever, with steroids. Not to be dramatic or anything, but I'm pretty sure I'm dying.

The one good thing lately is that I don't have to change any diapers anymore, which is practically the best thing that has happened to us since Emmy was born. Yes, about five seconds after I published my last entry, our little tyrant decided to shape up. Of course. No more diaper changes, no more washing diapers, no more folding diapers, no more stinky Diaper Genie. It's less work and more money AT THE SAME TIME.

I would still rather eat a scorpion than potty train another child, though. Seriously. If there is ever a next time, I will pay a thousand dollars to not have to potty train again.