Anyone who lives or has ever lived in a house where illness gets passed around will understand the following (summarized) exchange from my household this week:
Lala: “I’m not feeling well today.”
Me: (To L’s mother) “Lala’s still not feeling well.”
L’s mother: “I’m still feeling okay.”
L’s mother: (Around an hour or two later) “Suddenly not feeling well. On my way home.”
Me: “It begins . . .”
When I was a kid it was a tradition that I watched Saturday morning cartoons while letting my parents sleep in. Since becoming a parent myself I’ve thought about those times a lot . . . generally every morning my son has woken me up over the past five or so years. In this house a quiet morning has come to mean my son just isn’t awake yet, and when nobody jumped on my bed this morning, I thought that was exactly why I was having a quiet morning.
So imagine my surprise when I got out of bed and heard a soft laugh coming from my son’s room. After a quick check confirmed that all the other adults in the house were still asleep, and therefore it was impossible that one of them was running interference to give me some quiet, I had just about convinced myself I must have been mistaken about hearing anything . . . then my son laughed again.
Looking into his room, I found him happily occupying himself, and when he noticed that I was there, he smiled at me and said, “Today I remembered that I wanted to let you sleep!”
It was a strange moment for me . . . nice, but definitely strange. (Particularly after yesterday.)
This was my exchange with my son this morning:
Him: (Coming into my bedroom.) “It’s time to get up!”
Me: (Checking the clock.) “Yes . . . yes it is.”
Him: “Wait . . . I forgot I was going to let you sleep this morning. Go back to sleep!”
Me: (Mentally shrugging.) “Sure . . . why not? If you need anything, come get me, okay?”
Him: “Okay.” (Half-second pause.) “Can you open my blinds?”
Me: (Mentally telling myself that I knew it would be something.) “Of course.”
Him: (After I’ve gotten out of bed to open his blinds.) “Now go back to bed.”
Me: “Okay.” (Goes back to bed and waits for it.)
Him: “I have one neat thing to tell you first . . .”
Me: “Tell me.”
Him: (After he tells me.) “Now go to sleep.”
Me: “Okay.” (Waits for it.)
Him: (An uncertain number of minutes later.) “It’s too hot in my room. Can you close my blinds?”
Me: “Of course.”
Him: (After I’ve gotten out of bed to close his blinds.) “Now go back to bed.”
Me: “Okay.” (Goes back to bed and waits for it.)
Him: (Another uncertain number of minutes later.) “I think it’s time for you to get out of bed now.”
Me: “You know what? You’re probably right.” (Gets out of bed.)
Him: “Wait! Maybe you need more sleep!”
Me: (Smirking.) “I think I’ll just make some coffee instead . . . but thanks for the thought.”
Some years ago my dad told me the story about a friend of his who asked his friend to go get a piece of wood from the woodpile so they could prop up a trailer they were working on. Despite the relative simplicity of this request, my dad’s friend waited and waited for his friend to come back with the piece of wood. Knowing that his friend was . . . prone to distraction, to put it kindly, my dad’s friend waited a long time, but eventually he went off to the woodpile himself to find out what the delay was. He found his friend at the woodpile where he was busily planning an elaborate construction project.
“What are you doing?” my dad’s friend asked him.
“I just realized I’ve got a lot of really nice wood in my woodpile this year, and it would be a shame if it got wet, so I’m building a woodshed,” he friend answered as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
As some may have surmised from the brevity and tone of my previous entries, last week was an . . . odd one for me.
In short this was due L’s mother having the week off and wanting to treat the entire week like a vacation (which for her, it was) while simultaneously keeping up with L’s school schedule and me doing my best to keep my own personal projects, if not on track, at least only derailing such that I could get them back on track with minimal difficulty this week.
Two out of three of these things were accomplished.
Overheard at breakfast out today:
Person #1: “I lean.”
Person #2: “You bend too. What’s your point?”
Person #1: “Aileen . . . our server’s name is Aileen!”
Person #2: “That definitely makes more sense as a conversation starter.”
Overheard the other night:
Person #1: “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Person #2: “What gave it away, the alcohol or the blindfold?”
My painful lesson for the day:
If a bureaucratic system tells you that you will be contacted if anything further from you is required, you will not be contacted regardless if something further from you is required or not, unless it is a much delayed form letter informing you that you still haven’t submitted the information you have already submitted.
Let me show you my plan for sending you home. Please excuse the crudity of this model. I didn’t have time to build it to scale or paint it.
Zoo attendant: “Sorry, folks. The giraffes just don’t seem to be hungry today, but you’re welcome to give it a try anyway if you like.”
Zoo patrons there before us: “Good luck. They’ve been ignoring us since we got here.”
Me: *takes some leaves and start waving them like I’m trying to guide a plane on runway until eventually a giraffe wanders over and starts eating the leaves*
Me: “It’s all in the wrists.”
Candles & Curses 