Of course I’m sick the week of Thanksgiving. Lovely. I feel like my head is slowly filling with Miracle Whip, and I am pretty sure I must have deep-throated a bottle brush in my sleep last night. Ugh. The boy is stuffy and uncomfortable too, although he’s still a little ray of sunshine most of the time. Except when I pull out the snot-sucker; then he freaks right the fuck out.

As soon as it comes at him he loses his shit. Ofen literally.

For those who don't know: Babies can't blow their noses, so you have to go in after the snot. It is exactly as disgusting and unpleasant as you think.

E has been rudely healthy most of his life, so him getting sick is terrifying for me. Not that I’d rather he have been sick more often. Hell no. But I’ve been kind of spoiled by this healthy, bright, busy kid and just don’t know what to expect when he’s ill. He complains a lot in his sleep and he sounds like a little percolator of mucous but otherwise seems pretty ok. He seems to just want to do his own thing today. Much like his father – the only man I’ve ever met who doesn’t want to be babied and fussed over when he’s sick.

Scram!

Although he does turn into a grouch.

Nooo, when it comes to being a baby about illness, that’s me. I don’t know, maybe I got a little spoiled as an only child? I lived with my mom and grandmother, and if I was sick, they made a bed on the couch for me (which I thought was the coolest thing ever). I also had a store of “special” things I could only have when I was sick – specifically my mom’s childhood dolls and my Dad’s old Bill Cosby records. Quiet, sit-still activities for when I wasn’t a small force of nature barreling through life.

My earliest comedy training. Still influences me.

My entire family still references these regularly, and the jokes have aged very well.

I asked Chip if he had any “special” things that were only for when he was sick, and he looked at me like I had antlers. So I guess not? Obviously E is way too young to worry about that. For now, he’s content to watch a little more TV than usual, sprawled across my lap, or to play with his books and blocks in a slightly less destructive manner. Meanwhile I’m dragging through the day, grumpy, miserable and unmotivated. Mommy Fail.

Mommie Dearest

Although it could be worse.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been sick since he was born, but every time I get sick I have to learn all over again how to still be a mom (and a wife and a homemaker). Laundry still needs to be done, dinner still needs to be cooked, and the boy still needs me just as much if not more. This is the first time I’ve been able to just take whatever cold medicine I want, and I dearly loved chugging my Nyquil at bedtime. But freedom to take cold remedies isn’t the magic bullet I imagined it would be when I was pregnant or nursing. Turns out it still just takes the edge off and I’m still stuffy and achy and miserable.

Good for what ails ya

Dammit.

I am very much hoping that our little family will not be sick over Thanksgiving. That’s the busiest holiday of the year for us. There’s always a family dinner early in the day, usually more of a lunch. Then we go to a big Framily potluck. Last year, Thanksgiving was how we introduced Edward to the Framily. It was an amazing, beautiful night. I remember standing still in moments and just savoring how joyful and thankful I was; dozens of loving, adoring arms passing my barely-a-month-old son around while I actually got to walk around an socialize a little. It was the best possible introduction to our extended village.

Thanksgiving 2010

I LOVE THESE BITCHES.

This year, E is almost old enough to go play with the bigger kids, and will probably toddle off after them. He and Isla (18 month old daughter of a BFF) already scurry off to his room to play together when they have a chance, so I will not be surprised if he’s off and scamper-crawling to the play area. And before that is our family dinner, with out-of-town relatives that we haven’t seen since last Christmas. It’s a huge day, this Thursday, and I am sitting barefoot in my pajamas, sniffling and bitching.

Ffffuuuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkk

And the pies I am bringing are still in full pumpkin form!

I don’t really have anything illuminating to say, I guess. Just kvetching and stalling and drinking coffee (and wishing that nine-thirty AM was an appropriate time for a hot toddy…and that I had any whiskey to make it with). That’s the thing; lately my blog has been all about the cult, but my life actually isn’t. My life is about the boy, and the man, and the friends, and their kids, and the family, and the house. It’s a life, full and fairly normal. Now if I could just kick this cold and get moving…

This is my favorite Xmas decoration, but I keep it out all year...

Can it be after five yet?

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