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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04


2007-03-05 ... 1:08 p.m.

Nora is sick with the same viral crap that a normal kid would probably have on and off all winter, but for which I have no frame of reference because Nora is almost never sick. Oh sure, I have written about Nora being "sick" here and there, but what I usually meant by that was a minor runny nose, a little coughing at night, a Playground 5K time of 0:05 slower than her personal best, or a pretend-play session that might actually include some sitting down rather than seeing how high a Lego structure you can jump over while wearing a crash helmet and Superman cape. But this, now, this is sick. The up-and-down fever, the coughing, the not eating, and the actual verbalization of a sore throat---if Nora says something hurts "a little," it must hurt like a motherfuck. The floppy tiredness is the saddest of all. We had about three hours of television yesterday, all told, and approximately seven hundred Nate the Great books (Marjorie Weinman Sharmat, enough already! Please!)

Nora also threw up for the first time in her life, if you don't count baby spit-up, and it turns out she vomits like a champ. A purposeful stride to the toilet, lid up, graceful bending at the waist, no hair or snot or crying---where does she learn this stuff? I was the one freaking out and dancing around going oh oh oh while she flushed and said, "I want to go lie on the couch."

(My side has been much paraphrased.)

Me: [Oh baby, poor thing, blah blah motherly sympathy.]
Nora: Maybe there should be a container? In case I throw up again?
Me: [Right. Hey, aren't I the mom here? I am getting totally schooled in vomit care.]
Nora: Maybe like…a vase? Or a glass bowl?
Me: [A glass bowl? What are you, Martha Spew-art? Mies Van Der Blow (Chunks)? You have to throw up in something beautiful and well-designed? I'll get the bucket, toots.]

Would you cancel the kid's dentist appointment? Yes, right? I don't want her to yack on the man, and I don't want to drag the feverish small fry all over the Magnificent Mile just for a ten-minute stint in the chair. The Great First Cleaning can wait until summer, I guess.

Although I love Nora and enjoy taking care of her, after this long weekend (Pulaski Day, don't you know) of illness I am fresh out of sympathy. For anything or anyone. I feel like I could breeze right through the Holocaust museum barely suppressing a yawn. I could see a shivering kitten and think, "Yeah, life's tough." Tomorrow I must be back at work, and I must say I fear for my subordinates. It will be a harsh harsh world. After three days of fetching ice water and skipping the unwanted Toy Story 2 scenes and reading stories and wiping noses and propping pillows I am definitely ready for some healthy grownups. And nobody had better whine or moan or cough in my presence.

Ugh. Enough.

---mimi smartypants is down in the dumps.

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