in praise of popsicles and boogie wipes

On Saturday morning, Ethan woke up and I asked my husband if he thought he sounded congested. "A little," he said, and it was all downhill from there. One of my earliest childhood memories is the seemingly asinine way my mother would throw her hands up in the air in this stressed out panic whenever one of us kids were sick and shout "if I get sick, it's all over! It's all over!" This battle cry was most obnoxious when I was growing up and relying on my mother to take care of me, to change my sheets, to take my temperature, to make me homemade matzoball soup. You know, mom stuff. I didn't stop to think about how my dad was always traveling and that left my mom to be the Doer Of Everything because, you know, the world didn't stop just because someone was sick. I get it now. The first couple of days of Ethan's illness I spent making soup, sending myself on popsicle-getting errands and taking care of my sick little guy while simultaneously just hoping I wasn't next. Spoiler alert: the mom always gets sick in the end. Always.

I woke up with a sore throat and swollen glands and that was the least offensive part of the whole thing. Ethan and I have spent the past few days on the couch, consuming boxes of popsicles and watermelon and living off of soup. I don't even like soup. It's my husband's busy time at work which means I'm on my own to balance fevers and Boogie Wipes and everything in between. I've temporarily put aside my no television ever rule and begged Ethan to just sit, just a little bit, just so I don't pass out because I feel like there is an ocean rushing through my ears. "No more TV. More Tot School. Ethan paint pictures?" And that's how an unplugged childhood backfires, or doesn't, depending on how you look at it. Three days from now when we're all perfectly healthy and this bout of the plague is just a shudder-worthy memory in our past, I'll probably be grateful that he's not a couch potato. But today? Today it would have been nice. Maybe for a little.

Ethan is about ten steps ahead of me in the feeling better department and I am eager to catch up. And get fresh air. Oh, fresh air. The beautiful weather we've been having these past couple of days has made a world of difference. We've been sneaking outside for short intervals to just breathe in the fresh air. "Fresh air smells good," Ethan will giggle. If I could breathe through my nose, I'd totally agree. But I'm not there just yet.

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