notes

It is simply not possible to make fun of The Sick. You can write about it, sure, but don't expect to entertain, enlighten, or cajole. Because it's not possible to have fun with The Sick. You can try to tell an interesting story surrounding The Sick, but ultimately it becomes lost in the tertiary things related to The Sick. In other words, you can't see meaning beyond the mucus.

This is what you do:
You hunker down. You assume crash positions. You cover your head and other vital organs and hold bottles of Ibuprofen and boxes of Kleenex close to your chest. You make several trips to the hateful schmalmart to buy eucalyptus stuff to add to the humidifier. And Baby Vaporub. And juice. You drive home only to pull out of the garage again when you realize you forgot the Kleenex. You hold her as she cries. You sit on the sofa and wipe her nose as she drifts past. You try to get her to eat. You pull out the hateful blue bogey nose sucker and weigh the benefits of a screaming but momentarily snot-free toddler versus a snot-filled but momentarily tear-free toddler. You hate the night time. You know it is going to be painful for everyone: her, your husband, you. She wakes every hour through the darkness, allowing you to soothe her back into restless fever dreams. Four a.m. seems like a blessing and a curse when she is awake and wanting to start her day. Anything better than trying to sleep as though she's under water. You and your husband sit comatose on her bedroom floor, hoping that this is the worst day.

And so it goes.

You can't make The Sick funny. You can't make it interesting. It is painful. It is horrible. It is tedious.

It appears to be behind us. Almost.

Both Bean and G-Man were down with it last week and through the weekend (his mom and I compared notes and that was Heaven-sent because DUDE at least I could desperately demand TELL ME THAT THIS WILL GET BETTER).

In some sick part of my mind, I have now dubbed this Winter Cold Number 1. I don't even want to think how many we're going to suffer through.

In other news, you guys are a WEALTH of medical knowledge, All Things Sliver Related. I, um, ...still haven't done anything about it. BUT WAIT. Before you get all RED ALERT RED ALERT BLOOD POISONING YOUR HAND IS GOING TO FALL OFF--- it seems fine. Still ouchy, but fine. There's a little bit of a red bump under the skin but nothing else. On the day when I should have been dealing with it, The Sick came knocking at our door. I probably still need to dig around in there... but let's not talk about it right now.

Let's talk about HAPPY THINGS. FUN THINGS. DISTRACTING THINGS. Alice dressed in her flower costume on Saturday, but refused to wear the hat I made. So. I will need to figure out a work-around for Halloween itself. I'm thinking of a flower-petal skirt get-up.

Back to the sewing, duders. What about you? Fun weekend news? Humorous story about The Sick (please prove me wrong, that The Sick can be funny). Go!