January is over! Thanks be to god.
The other night, Simone was sick, with that alarming scalding hot fever skin that children get making you certain death is imminent, despite the thermometer’s insistence that their temperature still hovers around 102, and she draped herself over me in bed, where I was holding Twyla with my other arm, and there was sleep moaning (Simone) and sleep wiggling (Twyla) and lots of sticky, airless heat-generating (Everyone), and then Simone was awake and crying and Twyla was awake and making baby sounds at me, and this was about the thirteenth time this had happened, so I asked Scott to check the clock while he was out in the kitchen fetching a bottle, thinking surely, SURELY, this sleepless hell night must be nearly finished, and LO! It was 1:30.
Naturally I broke things and stomped my feet and threw a tantrum, because my GOD, these children! Everywhere, children! Hot and damp and ON ME!
Alas the tantrum only happened in my head, because, well.
Instead, I handed Twyla to Scott and got up to measure out more ibuprofen and returned to rub Simone’s hair and say soothing things, and then I took the baby back, (because only I will do as far as Twyla is concerned), and patted her while making shhh-ing sounds, like the sea, and Simone coughed wetly into my eye, and all was as it was, is, and ever shall be.
As dreary as it is to read about other people being ill, I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got at the moment. Simone was scheduled to have her adenoids out last week, but instead she got sick, and was in fact SO sick, for a while, that I was wringing my hands and having visions of Lavinia Swire. Then she was at last improving, but yesterday slid downhill again in the afternoon, and so while she seems dramatically better today, I am regarding her progress with a jaundiced eye.
Twyla has come down with whatever it is, and is miserable and bewildered as only a sick baby can be. I’ve got it as well, though my case is still in the very early stages and so I am trying to stave it off with extra liquids, denial, and sloth.
Simone’s fifth birthday is Friday, with her party on Saturday, so it is a fun exercise to speculate about which of us will be ill, then. Will Simone be fully recovered? Will Twyla? Will I have fully succumbed, prophylactic sloth notwithstanding? Will Scott be felled as well? Many possible combinations to consider, which is exciting.