Sweet Stolen Time

It's not just that I can eat chocolate when my kids aren't looking. Or sink my brain into a novel (grown-up talk!) It's not just walking to the mailbox without drawing protest, or lying down and nap if I need to. It's simply freedom.

Lovely as they are, children are demanding. They demand food, toys, nose squeezes (Alex, whose nose has been running overtime). Most of all, they demand attention. Look at me, mommy. Look at me signing "I love you" a dozen times in a row. Look at me somersault, jump, kick my feet. Look at my Lego creation. Watch me read. Answer my questions. Listen to my song. A few hours of this and I'm drained.

That's why I enforce "quiet time." It's not very quiet anymore--the kids retreat, reluctantly into their bedroom, play together, fight, cry. Occasionally something will bang against the wall. But at least they're out of sight. And I can focus my attention on something else. Bills, for example. Writing, theoretically. Chocolate. Me.

Buzz

Alex: "Mommy, there's a spider in the window. No, it's a bee."

Me: "It's not a bee, it's a fly."

Alex: "But the back of it bees!"
(i.e. its back buzzes.)

12 Great Things About Pneumonia

You learn to spell it.

You bond with pneumonia-stricken book characters.

Ditto pioneers.

Ditto ancestors.

You have an excuse to take lots of naps.

And hot baths.

You get to watch all the TV you want. (Although it's not as much fun when you've lost the channel changer, or when the channel changer conks out leaving you stuck in the Preview Channel.) And people loan you really fun movies.

Also really fun books, which, although completely unintelligible during the worst days, are a comfort thereafter.

You get to meet lots of doctors. (The last one was so funny I think I'll make her my PCP.)

You get to skip church.

Also kindergarten drop-offs.

Everybody tells you you're skinny.

A One-Woman Army

In a previous post I referred to people who helped me during my sickness. In fact, "people" = Mom. When I was too sick to work, my mother practically took over my household. She visited every day, switching off with Laramie when he was forced back to work, taking Katherine and Alex to her house or watching all the kids here so I could rest and visit the doctor. She brought food that we could prepare quickly, and served dinner. She sorted loads of laundry, cleaned my kitchen, and picked up our produce bag from the store. She kept watching my children even after they both developed colds, because I didn't dare spread their germs to any other families. A few days ago she took Katherine home and sewed her a Halloween costume.

One day, while she was visiting, I read her a quote from an old Ensign article, that said we never stop being parents, but must always nurture our children. "That's true," she said, as she continued scrubbing my table. And she has.

Calling June Cleaver

If I ever made any snap judgments about mothers who gave in and got nannies, maids, or take-out, I take it all back. All of it. I want it all. Things are crazy around here, even when I'm not sick. In fact, being sick helps a lot, because helpful people bring food and take your kids away. When you're not sick, you have to provide the food and watch the kids, who somehow get louder and shriller at dinnertime. And clean the house--that is, dream of cleaning the house. This is getting harder, with our kitchen slowly disappearing under school handouts, Alex spilling his milk at every meal (today, after I forbade him milk, he spilled his water), and Becca spitting up on the floor without warning.

No wonder the feminists say June Cleaver was a myth.

Counting Ratatouille

6 Cloves garlic
5 Tomatoes (Chopped)
4 Summer Squash (Zucchini, Crook Neck, etc. Diced 1/2 inch)
3 Onions (Diced)
3 Red Bell Peppers (Diced)
2 Eggplants, Small--or 1 Large (Diced 1/2 inch)
1 Bunch basil (tied).

Salt the eggplant, set aside to sweat, then squeeze out a bit more moisture & dry.
Fry the eggplant in olive oil until golden. Set aside.
Sautee onions in olive oil, cook until soft & golden.
Add garlic. Add basil. Cook a few minutes.
Add peppers. Cook a few minutes.
Add squash. Cook a few minutes.
Add tomatoes. Cook about 15 minutes.
Add eggplant & cook a few more minutes until everything tastes good.
Remove basil.
Salt to taste. Garnish with basil & olive oil.

Thanks, Alice Waters, every CSA subscriber needs a copy of Chez Panisse Vegetables. What a great way to clean out the fridge.

When Daddy entertains the kids

Climbing wall at REI: Katherine went up twice and loved it (a 5.5 and a 5.6), but Alex was too short.

Games My Children Play

Sitting around these last several weeks, I've had lots of time to watch my kids amuse themselves. In addition to traditional blocks, train tracks, roads, and books, they invent all sorts of pastimes:

--Train ride: Katherine passes out tickets (game cards or airplane pictures) and tells everybody we are riding the train to England. Train trips may or may not include perusal of stained glass books.

--Shoe store: The kids line up all their shoes and as many of yours as they can grab (one of each set; to see the other shoe you have to ask to try them on). You then pay with numbered game cards, which double as money. Cost: My black shoes, $2; Mom's purple slides, $3; Katherine's pink socks, $4.

--Counting cards: Katherine has also used her cards to count friends, lay out her house address, make up house addresses, and start our telephone number (with only half a deck left and a lot of big numbers she didn't get far). Her deck contains 8 sets of cards numbered 1-4, which she combines to get bigger numbers.

--Putting on a show: Katherine and Alex have enjoyed doing this for a long time, dressing up and then putting on a "play" in which they independently compose and perform songs spur-of-the-moment while running in circles. Last night Katherine put on a show for her fussy baby sister, which consisted of dancing and jumping in front of her, singing original lyrics, and explaining in asides to Daddy that the show was a mystery in which they were trying to find people. Rebecca was entranced.

--Singing: Katherine and Alex both sing about all sorts of things. Today at dinner Katherine made up a song about an ant that ate an avocado and turned into a bee. She has also made up songs for Rebecca, one of which she repeats often: "I love my baby, tiny little thing. She's so cute, but cannot sing."

--Echo Singing: Katherine and Alex love to sing, and often sing together, but this becomes difficult when one of them is making up the lyrics on the spot. This morning I heard them overcome this problem by echoing. Katherine would sing a line, and Alex would repeat it. They created a whole song about toys this way.

Things I am tired of

Being tired

New variations on my old illness: first a horrible cold with runny nose, a recurring sore throat and laryngitis, not being able to sing, aching chest pains after yesterday's 10-block walk to Katherine's school, sinus problems, recurring weariness so severe I didn't even check the mail today, trouble sleeping

Becca having trouble sleeping (I put her down three times today to try for a nap, but she wasn't buying. And she's not sleepy now. How does she do that?)

Not being able to do what I want--cook dinner, cook all the vegetables we are drowning under, go on walks, take my kids to the park

Missing activities--Chocolate fondue party at Aubrey's, Seattle Rep performance tonight in company of Mom and Ruth, women's conference (OK, honesty, I forgot about it. But I couldn't have gone anyway), bookclub, taking Katherine to her Raccoon Rally, lunch with Dad today, plus library trips and dance classes I couldn't sign the kids up for

My same books (after no library trips)

The clutter in my house

Being sick!!!

Swinging

For weeks, we have been trying to teach Alex how to pump his legs on the swing. I have tried, Lar has tried, Mom has tried. This past week, since Lar has been home with Alex in the morning, he's spent a lot of time coaching: "Forward straight, back bent..." with Alex not quite getting it. Yesterday morning, Katherine decided to take a turn. She gave Alex a push and started instructing: "Legs forward, legs back," and suddenly he was pushing and pumping and gaining altitude. He finally got it...thanks at last to Katherine.

Another day, another face.

 

Doctor Says...

Pneumonia. Well, that explains it.

We asked the doctor to write me a special prescription: a letter to Katherine that says "No questions until Mommy is better."

Things I can still do continued

I can help Katherine write a list of oon words. Apparently I'm not very good at signing "moon" or "bird" (to explain loon), but I got them both laughing pretty hard when I acted out "swoon." Based on my demonstration, Katherine decided "swoon" means to fall asleep, which is pretty close.

The hardest part about my illness for Katherine is I can't answer all her questions. Seems like she has a new one every other minute, and I still can't talk enough to explain things. So I've told her she can't ask me questions for 3 days, and every time she asks something I can't tackle I hold up a 3. (It was 4 yesterday, and 5 the day before.) She's getting pretty tired of it. I guess I'm committed to questions again by day 0--I really hope I can talk by then!

Overheard

A: That's not kid soap, that's baby soap.
K: But babies are kids. Everybody's kids.
A: Mommy and Daddy aren't.
K: But they're children of God!
A: But they have big fingers!
(Pause.)
K: Then they're grownups of God.


Caitlin, a 4 year old visitor several days ago: "Let's pretend we live in a real castle, not a pretend castle."

Today

Things I can still do

Play patient: Katherine inspects me with binoculars, Alex uses a magnifying glass (sometimes with a red plastic cup in front which one would think might impair his vision). I can stick out my tongue and eat/drink their medicine, which I must say is just as effective as the other stuff.

Feed my kids: today's lunch was a plate of corn chips, apple chips, crackers, craisins, two whole apples, a handful of almonds, and a chocolate muffin. Sure I could have got a peanut butter sandwich, but where's the fun in that?

Feed my baby: same menu as usual

Feed myself: OK, making enchiladas were overly ambitious, but I did manage to cook some mushroom soup today in installments. Never mind that it has no flavor. One sad truth that has been reaffirmed this week: leftovers do run out eventually. Canned soup is starting to sound appealing.

Playground monitor: Lie on my lawn chair holding the baby listening to my children's voices to make sure they have not 1) injured themselves 2) escaped

Blog

Food for thought

A list of issues my feverish brain decided were important to concentrate on this week (especially at 4 in the morning)

--the other place I should have sent a published article 10 years ago
--what treat to take to Katherine's class on her birthday (in March)
--a letter to the elementary school principal about incorrect school supply lists
--a scheme for getting the Medieval Studies students in York to contribute to the Minster's Great East Window
--an alternate way to have resolved my parents' long-past hardwood floor problems
--a labeling scheme for unradiated almonds
--listing issues that my feverish brain is concentrating on

Didn't actually solve anything important, like where to put the baby's bedroom or how to potty train Alex. Maybe if I'm still sick next week.

Sick--still!

So I'm still sick--this flu or whatever has totally wiped me out. I've just been sitting around all day watching the kids. And feeding them. And changing them. And answering questions. (Workers get sick leave--why not moms?)

A friend called in the evening, and when I said I was sick, she asked if I needed anything. No, I assured her. I'm fine. You sure? How about some soup? No thanks. Well, should I come watch the kids? I finally said yes.

And a good thing too. By the time she arrived I was too tired to move. She got the kids dinner (her first time making a peanut butter sandwich), pushed Alex on the swing, and amazed the kids by bumping the ball volleyball style--Alex couldn't stop laughing. She stayed over two hours. Thank heaven for loving, insistent friends.

Food update

Alex has changed his mind about pit horns. Last night at dinner, Lar served some peach slices and had some specially reserved for Alex. "Who doesn't like pit horns?" he asked.

"I love pit horns!" Alex said. "Nobody doesn't like pit horns. It's all about the pit horns."

Hope future food dislikes will disappear so fast!

Languishing

I feel yucky
Oh so yucky
I feel yucky, unlucky, and sick
I'm congested, coughing and feverish
For I have caught the ick!

I'm unsteady,
Hot and sweaty,
And I'm ready to try any cure
But I'm still as sick as I ever was
Even after Grandpa's herbs.