Leo at 28th months, with a high fever. And somehow, dinner must materialize
So I'm wondering whether 'tis nobler in the mom blog to focus on that one redeeming something that somehow happened in the midst of everything else, or to unleash the pent-up misery of a weekend from hell upon you, gentle, undeserving reader...
What's that you say? Oh, okay, maybe just a few highlights:
I was leaving work on Friday when I got a voicemail from Aaron: "Leo's school called: we need to pick him up immediately. Something about a 108Ëš fever?" My hour-long commute could not have been more panicked. Turns out they said 100.8Ëš, of course. But it was up considerably by the time I collected my limp child from the arms of his teacher, and, three days later as I write this, it's still going strong. So the whole line of reasoning where I kept reminding myself that it's probably better Leo gets sick on a weekend when we're home anyway? That no longer applies. We'll be headed to Dr. O'Connor first thing Monday morning.
When Leo is sick, he likes to get up at 4:30 am. Just to wring every drop of misery from the day I guess. On Saturday, I was still clinging to the silver lining theory, so we figured we'd all just get an early start on the day! Hurray! More time to fit in losing the shopping list, getting a parking ticket, then deciding—uncharacteristically—to get a pedicure, only to end up with a rather bad pedicure-related wound ($16 mani-pedi at the neighborhood place? Not such a deal). Still, we soldiered on, making the best of things, assuming we'd done our time.
Sunday? Leo added a 2:30 am wake-up to the mix, as well as a new bowel-related issue I'll spare you, and the kid just could not function. He'd run a step and manage to scrape all the skin off his toe. He'd insist on watching the Muppets only to develop a sudden and mortal feat of Sweetums. He ended up eating dry oat flakes for dinner, with a side of chamomile tea, and we were just relieved he ate.
We've finished a bottle of children's Motrin. The lovely produce we bought lies neglected at the bottom of the fridge. The likelihood that we're all going to sleep through the night is zilch. In addition to the times Leo is up tonight (twice by 8:30 pm, actually), I'll probably add a few of my own wake-up episodes, which I'll dedicate to making up unthinkably terrible diagnoses for Leo.
Hmm, now where is that one upbeat item to end up on before we all stick our heads in ovens? Would it count if I told you that, in a moment of prescience last Thursday night, I allowed the wine display at The Greene Grape to impel me to purchase a box of wine? Yup, a box, containing the equivalent of four bottles. And you know, it's not bad. We all had a rough weekend, but over mezze and wine earlier this evening, Aaron pointed out that at least we're healthy. So far. And of course, we have each other. Ah, yes. Pita bread, a box of wine and thou.
Zoe Singer is a freelance food writer and cookbook editor and co-author of The Flexitarian Table. Food Editor and blogger for The Faster Times, she tries not to eat for two now that her son is a toddler.