Tag Archives: sick day

Let’s Bust this Block Wide Open

Of all the days to set my mind to posting a blog post – any blog post – I had to set it for today. Today we had runny noses and sore throats all around, an ear infection in the snickerdoodle and mid-morning vomiting from the cheesedoodle. When I remarked on my glorious Monday to the facebooks, they responded with sympathy and one (Anna) brought me dinner. It was beef stew and really good, really fresh bread and chocolate cake. Comfort food.

And a bottle of Chianti for a mama after a hard day. I don’t write that because one should break a two week writer’s block with a controversy. I write it because it broke my writer’s block by bringing to mind a conversation I had with my mackerdoodle a few weeks ago.

We were hanging out in the kitchen, which happens a lot in our place, and out of the blue, which also happens a lot, the mackerdoodle pipes up with the statement something like, “Only Jesus and Noah never sinned.”

Um. No. After I assured her that Jesus was the only one to ever live a sinless life, she countered with, “But Noah always obeyed and he built the ark when God said to and didn’t ask questions. When did he sin.” She paused, and then said, “when did the BIBLE say he sinned?” Clever girl.

So I told her the story of Noah getting drunk and making a bad decision. It involved a discussion about what alcohol can do to an adult if we drink too much of it, and she listened very carefully. When I ran out of words, which doesn’t actually happen often around my mackerdoodle, she chimed in:

“So it’s sort of like when I eat too much candy, and I act really silly and I don’t like it, and then I feel sick.”

I said yes. It was sort of like that.

“But one candy is good and doesn’t make me silly. Or sick.”

Again, I could only agree.

“And you wouldn’t feed me that whole bowl of tootsie pops for lunch.” she said, gesturing to a green glass bowl full (I am embarrassed to write) of tootsie pops. I emphatically assured her (and you, my readers) that I would never even contemplate such an act. When I was telling this story to my sister she added, “Just as I would never feed your father a bowl of vodka for lunch.” That made me laugh.

But there you have it, folks. the lesson of moderation from my mackerdoodle. The reason I’m not embarrassed, or ashamed to tell you that one of the pastor’s wives from my church brought me both food and a truly lovely Chianti at the close of a tough day. And that I enjoyed all of it at the end of the day I had.

Now, having broken my block (I hope) I am about to retire to my bed because (a) my girls alternating between congestion related insomnia last night resulted in a lack of sleep on my part and (b) while I have been writing this, my head has slowly filled up with a suspicious congestion, my throat is hurting and my nose has begun to imitate a really old faucet with broken washers.

I hope you’ll hear from me again soon. This has been fun. I’ve missed you.


************I just re-read this. I didn’t drink the entire bottle of wine. By all of it, I meant some of the food, and some of the wine. Yeesh. Maybe I need to go back to writer’s block. **********************************


Different Responses to Sneezles and Wheezles

I don’t normally post on Sundays because I’m generally do church things and I wouldn’t really trade that for anything, but today I’ve got two kids with some sort of allergy to some sort of something that has taken to the air in St. Louis over the last few days.

They each have matching symptoms: runny, watery eyes, clear runny noses, sneezes and barky coughs.

But the reactions. Oh such a difference in my doodles’ personalities!

When the mackerdoodle wakes up coughing during the night, it is a full Shakespearean tragedy. Every cough is followed by wailing normally associated with middle-eastern funerals, or banshees. She says, “Nononononono! I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” then coughs again and begins the cycle over.

When the cheesedoodle wakes up coughing he sits straight up in the bed, and coughs with enthusiasm and gusto, flailing his limbs and shaking his head. Then he lies down again and goes back to sleep.

Sleep itself is a martial art to my son, which is unfortunate because when he’s feeling sick he wants to sleep wrapped around me with his head on my chin or cheek, or neck. When he’s sick, I wake up feeling like a victim of police brutality.

The mackerdoodle, on the other hand, doesn’t want to be touched when she’s sick. I don’t know when this happened, but if I ask if she wants to snuggle she says, “NOnonononono! I don’t like it. I don’t like it.”

And the noses.

You may already know that I have a bit of an aversion to things coming out of noses, so the last day has been a challenge for me. When the mackerdoodle sneezes significantly (and I think you know what I mean by that) or just has a runny moment, she says, “MAMA! My NOSE! It’s YUCKY!” and I say, “Go get some toilet paper and bring it to me.” We look after things and deposit the used paper in the closest trash.

In the same circumstance, the cheesedoodle trots purposefully to the nearest roll of toilet paper. He pulls off roughly 2 feet of paper and proceeds to smear his entire face enthusiastically, then takes the soggy paper, deposits it in the toilet and flushes as many times as he can get away with it before I can get myself from wherever I am to the bathroom. I then take a damp cloth and clean up the carnage on his face, much to his disgust and another round of martial arts.

So that’s what my day is looking like. Even sick days are an adventure when you’re the mama of the doodles.