I made it until around 2:00.
Before then, The kiddlings had a video-rama afternoon, highlighted by Potty Time with Bear (please take interest, Leelo, please), Pee-Wee, and Totoro.
Like a good webhound, I used part of the video interlude to diagnose myself with textbook acute bronchitis. Treatment: rest, fluids, dullness.
Then I begged Badger to come get Iz and ferry her off. Sweet, kind Badger. And praises to beneficent Jo for hosting whatever took place after they left my doorstep.
Made it until about 4:00 with just me and Leelo. Then I pulled that white flag out and called Seymour home early from work. Sweet, patient Seymour.
Laid in bed for a good long while, dozing in and out, staring at the ceiling, unable to read because holding a magazine or book aloft required too much effort. Then I remembered that sitting semi-upright seems to minimize the phlegm production a bit, and keeps the coughing down.
So here I am. And here's what's on my mind. (Mostly the kids, since I inhabit a pedia-centric universe.)
Should I be so proud about Iz's drawing a pair of star-shaped sunglasses, and declaring that they belonged to Bootsy Collins? I believe I should. Better this than she see such eyewear as being given provenance by Elton John (I respect the man, but he can't hold any sort of funky candle to Bootsy).
I am touched and hopeful that our brash, mercurial little girl drew me a happy flower tableau on her magnadoodle, with a big "Get Well Soon!" in the center.
I have no problem being proud about two unprecedented things Leelo said today:
Upon being asked what he had in his hands (usual response: specific name of object only), he said "I have letters." Not "N and M." Progress! More gears clicking into place!
Also, he looked me in the eye while I was serving him his snack, and said "Mommy, I want more banana." WTF? F! He has never used my name as anything other than a wail, and certainly has never addressed me. Damn damn damn.
He may very well abandon both phrases, but for now let's give our boy a hand!
Realizing how disinterested I am in belonging to any sort of mother or parent community. Most books or articles about parenting make me sneer in disbelief (Suckers! Your perfect world is going to get fucked, just like mine! Wait and see!). Even the normally dependable Brain, Child contained much to annoy me this month. I would rather read less cuddly and more visceral material.
Hoping that, once this illness wanes (tomorrow? please?) I can start thinking clearly again, or at least like myself again. Resume being pleasant, or at least cheerily joustful, to my dear partner. And friends. Start drawing again (I couldn't while I was away, I tried). Start aligning verb tenses properly. Start operating at more than 50% of capacity.
If you made it this far, go get yourself a cookie. You earned it. I am done.
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