I’ve been cooped up in the house with two hot children for four days. Two sweaty and shivering little boys watching 24 hour Nick Jr, and me with a laundry list that probably looks a lot like yours <sigh>.
Monday was surprisingly blissful as only little brother was sporting a fever. With big bro at school and only one toddler to tend to I was free to scuttle about the house, annihilating all of those little ratty piles of school work and invitations and magazines that collect on every flat surface and available corner. The assortment of cups on my bedside table, speeding tickets on my desk, and heaps of Goodwill donations lining the walls of the mudroom were no match either. I even bucked up and put all of the vitamins that I keep out on the counter in the cupboard since, let’s be honest, having them at eye level obviously hasn’t inspired me to down a single Omega 3 since around the last time we ran the air conditioning.
But by Monday night the bug had claimed big brother as well. And, though saddened by his rosy cheeks and bleary eyes, I have to admit I was kind of looking forward to a whole day of snuggling those boys who barely slow down for a kiss these days. High fever keeps them incapacitated and just dazed enough not to notice my incessant nuzzling. Happily unaware of the neurosis that would ensue, I began the day optimistic and maternally bursting with the spirit of care giving. I could have smiled a whole nursing home back to health. And then the day began.
Half a day of lolling around gave way to brotherly bickering. Refusal to nap fueled both fever and fire so that by noon on Tuesday they were outright arguing. And by the time my shift was relieved I found myself dashing out into the night with my gym bag in fear of dual tantrums. Oh the glory. That was yesterday, and this morning was Groundhog Day, plus a boatload of lying and whodunit. Oh, and either little brother or the Chihuahua peed on the living room curtain and left a pull-up behind. Then little brother dumped a whole batch of pancakes on the kitchen floor. Either the dogs ate them or he did. No one’s fessed up yet.
So this afternoon I claimed freedom. Stepped out of the house and drove to work. Take that, sick house. At work I laughed and talked with my office staff like a real adult, about things both work and not. Ha! And then I traded the intended trip to Target for much more costly yet infinitely more satisfying retail therapy at Anthropoligie. I tried some online shopping last night but it just didn’t have quite the same effect as, you know, actually being outdoors. So today I decided on the real thing, and two hundred dollars and a sassy new pair of shorts later I’m almost back to new.
As for my boys, the little one has grown tired of me, and is off to school again tomorrow while I continue to nurse big bother back to health. And judging from the last day I had the luxury of one-on-one time, I’d say that tomorrow the two of us are going to be just fine.