Friday, September 24

The hardest part is not planting kisses all over that smart alecky little twerp

Well, I sent my official press release to all the major media outlets, but apparently I'm the only one who thinks my illness is of international import. And yet my brother gets face time on HuffPo dressed as an overgrown deceitful puppet (he's the extra sweaty one, front left). It's like the time Noah was probably going to be in the background of an evening news clip, but then Barack Obama had to go and announce his presidential candidacy on the same day.

On a related note, thank you to everyone who has felt sorry for me and voiced it either on my blog or Facebook. If I can generate even one fished-for well wish, I feel like at least I'm doing something.

There have been some inquiries—actually, one inquiry (thanks Lish)—as to how a stay-at-home mom deals when she's SUPER SUPER SICK like me (I have pneumonia in case you didn't pick up on it). The truth is: Not very well.

Noah's older brother is starting a new job next month, so he was able to come get Ethan at 11 yesterday and keep him till Noah got home. My mom lives 10 minutes away and works from home, so today I called her with my pitiful almost-not-there morning voice and had her come pick us up at 9:30, then we stayed at her house until Noah got home from work.

Ethan's a good little guy who's happy watching movies or Dora or Handy Manny or Little Einsteins for most of the day (although plopping him in front of the TV for several hours, even though he's playing and whatnot at the same time, bothers me). Still, his comprehension of my illness doesn't match his astounding communication skills. ("Hmm, it's noice outside!" "The moon! It's blight!" "I have poo poos in my bum." "I'm not gonna do dat. It's my loife.")

For instance, in the hour it took to get both of us out the door the day of my fateful doctor's appointment, I had to stand in the driveway croaking, "Ethan, Mommy is VERY SICK COME GET YOUR DIAPER ON PLEASE DON'T PEE IN THE NEIGHBOR'S YARD (cough, hack)." Normally these negotiations are conducted indoors, but I've settled for incremental victories as I can get them.

Phase One: Cover the wiener before getting in the car.
Phase Two: Get the shorts on before entering the doctor's office.
Phase Three: Weigh Bunny and Sammy on the electronic scale at the nurse's station before being asked to please return to the waiting area.
Phase Four: Remove the tongue depressor from the stirrup before the doctor comes into the exam room.

And so on.

But then last night, sitting on the floor, I asked Noah to massage my shoulders for me. Ethan cut in front of him and stood behind me, gently rubbing my shoulders. Those ten seconds made up for all three days' worth of inappropriate public nudity. And the fact that he hadn't had a bath in two days...well. Who am I to judge?

8 comments:

Catherine said...

Awww little sod. William loves the pictures of your dogs and cats, but now I got to go for it is required that we watch "exmaters" i.e. videos of excavator diggers on youtube. He is obsessed.

Where did my comment go? Yes, I am feeling very sorry for you and hoping you got better stupidly fast xx

Barbara said...

I just found your blog following a link. Hope you feel better real soon. I have been reading your blog & your very funny stories. Can you tell me if you still have the adorable yorkiepoo puppy you mentioned back in March what happend to him. You have a lovely little boy & a very brave husband.


Barb

Lt said...

Funny, funny stuff.

I, too, hope you feel better, but will not be checking your blog until the antibiotics have kicked in. That's a good way to get a computer virus on the internets.

"I have poo poos in my bum." Love it.

Erin said...

Catherine—If my animals can bring even one child joy, then I guess it's worth it to have them.

Barb—Nice to have you reading! The yorkipoo was returned to her owner the next day. I contacted the humane society as well as posting her information on LassieComeHome website, and her owner called.

Lt—Boys are so much fun, as you know. And by fun, I mean gross.

Anonymous said...

Hi! This is Katie from Triad Smarty Pants. I'm trying to get in touch with you. Can you email me your email address? My email address is kgmoos@triad.rr.com. Thanks, and looking forward to hearing back from you!

Lish said...

You have officially terrified me.
I have the immune system of a dying hippo, so having a biological terror (baby) in the house will be interesting enough.
Being the daily primary caregiver while sick will be an effort in self control.

Not that I'm EVIL when I'm sick, per say. I'm just. Very, very... abrupt.

My poor children.

Personally I think you're doing pretty well if you're successfully battling a child's desire to run naked through the world while you're hacking up your lungs.
I would chalk those days up to successes, lady.

I hope you're feeling better.

stephanie said...

ok that's pretty darn sweet.

so the moral of the story is: after i have kids, i can never, ever get sick. got it.

Erin said...

Lish—Oh, man, that first year when he was in daycare? The mayor designated me as an area disaster. Me. Personally.

stephanie—That is exactly the moral of this story.

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