It's Not Pig Related

So after three days of 102-103 degree fever, I had to take Ani to the doctor to have them check her out. Clear lungs, clear ears, clear throat. Un-fun-swab up the nose for swine flu, negative. Today she's better, but due to the 24 hour fever rule, she's home with me again today.

And now Celyn has her own version, of course, because the concept of isolation in a house with two small children is absurd.

Celyn, unsurprisingly, is a different kind of patient. Her main annoying "sick" habit is her penchant for waking up all night long to have discussions.

I didn't catch their ick, but I do have a slight cough. So last night, during one of her wakeups, she felt it necessary to relate this to me:

"Hey mom? Know what my sister told me? She said that when you hafta cough or sneeze, you do it in your elbow, like dis," she demonstrated.

"She's absolutely right," I murmured sleepily.

After a few minutes, she piped up again.

"Mama? ... you didn't do dat."

"Thanks, Celyn. Go. To. Sleep."

She also woke up to use the bathroom, and that whole process took way longer for me to recover from, sleepwise, and I was awake for probably an hour on top of the numerous random wakings. So ... I'm slightly grumpy today. Celyn's not. She wanted to talk endlessly over breakfast, but her choice of breakfast conversation -- made up knock knock jokes -- while I tried to give myself a blood transfusion drink my coffee, and I started to crack a little.

"Please ... I can't talk anymore. I need to be quiet and drink coffee and stare at the ceiling. Thanks."

I know, I'm a bad mom. But this is what a three year old's knock knock joke is like:

"Knock knock!"
"Who's there?"
"What did the other chicken say to the other chicken?"
"What?"
"I SAID, 'What did the other...?"
"No, I heard you, I meant, what did the chicken say?"
"Cockadoodle doooo! ... Mom? Did you hear me? Wasn't that funny? I said, 'Cockadoodle doooo!' ... Knock knock!!"

So you see my dilemma. Ask for quiet to drink my coffee, or have a nervous breakdown.

What a Day

The kids came home, all happy and whatnot. Cel was bubbling over with tales of "gul," and what she did there, and how much she liked her (new) teachers. Ani got off the bus looking sweaty and tired (why is it so fecking hot out? why?) and otherwise completely nonchalant. I tried not to pry, she told me a few things, and later she asked for help writing an "I Love You" note to her teacher and said, "I can't wait to go back to SCHOOL TOMORROW!"

So I guess it went well.

There was also much tiredness, and a few spillover crying tantrums. Cel took a two hour nap and then stayed up against our will until 9:30pm (gack), but Ani was out cold by 8pm on the button.

I'm reeling a little bit, experiencing the reality of not being in contact with my child at all from 7:45am to 2:30pm, especially in this day and age where, when something crosses my mind, I call someone or email them or text them. Instantly. Now I can't even check with my kid to see if she's ok. Weird.

And also, the reality of this "every day" thing. We've always done two day a week preschool, and I don't regret that, but oh my god. Every. Single. Day?

On the positive side, I got a ton of work done while they were gone, and felt so much more competent and patient and compassionate by the time they got home. So the rest of the evening went smoothly. Except for the Celyn refusing to fall asleep thing while I had a ton of dirty dishes waiting in the sink. (Hello? Landlady? FIX MY DISHWASHER!) Otherwise, it was a very smooth day.

I cried a few more times, and expect to have some more cries left in me, but it's ok. A lot of that is just baggage. Have I mentioned already that I cried my whole first day of kindergarten? And cried every first day of school up through 6th? (I did get more discreet as time went on.) I was just SO nervous and afraid and uneasy, and it took a long time, every single year, to get over it. Even after that, I don't ever remember waking up and being like, "School! YES!"

I'm glad she's not like that. Neither kid seems to be. I'm so grateful. A lot of my kindergarten angst is just imagining her experiencing it the way I did, which is fanciful and completely unlikely, since she's just not like that. I was crushed if someone so much as giggled at me. This kid made it a point to tell off some teenagers at the block party.

So, yeah. Very different people. I guess she didn't inherit my depressed.as.fuck gene. Yay!

Got to go wrap while I can still prop my eyelids open. Cel is home with me the next two days. I now envision my productivity as being measurable by equations:

P = E/(4a + 2c)³

(I'm not a scientist, but I play one on TV! The TV in my mind ... on syndication.)