Some days you wake up, kiss your husband, tickle your child, maybe start off the day reading Frosty the Snowman in bed, then make breakfast, put your hair in the blandest ponytail that pink hair has ever seen and trundle off to the cafe to write. Tra la la.
Other days begin at midnight with a sick child who will not sleep. You spend hours tracing ABCs and secret messages on her back with your fingertip, reading books, peeling clementines, droppering children's Tylenol, playing the Chipmunks Christmas or Mr. Ben or the Beatles on the iphone ("Oh bla dee, please,"), then finally doze a little around 4 am before the day gets rolling at 7 with some truly spectacular whining. Also, the woeful phrase "I don't feeeeel good," repeated about 638 times, each time more heartbreaking than the last.
There would be no cafe today, no writing--except for a verrry quick interview response for Dagbladet, the Norwegian newspaper, executed with a lapful of miserable toddler. Then, a day of whine-management and cuddling, a much-too-short nap, and having to cancel my hair appointment, thus ensuring black roots in all holiday photos--unless I wear a Santa hat all the time, and hey, maybe I will!
Germs, feel my wrath!
So. We stayed home today. Here is some of what we did:
- We started to paint some twigs with craft paint. Attention cooled quickly.
- Bathy for C; sadly, no shower for mama. Showers are the first thing to go. Well, work is the first thing to go. Then showers.
- We played Dr. Snowman, a game in which, as you may have guessed, the doctor is a snowman.
- We played "patients" in which Dr. Clementine (who is very medically inclined, a fact that has been duly noted by Santa) visits all her patients on the library floor, looks in their ears, and prescribes 39 doses of medicine per day. To which the patients are expected to shout mutinously, "39 times a day!?!!" (which was originated by papa and is always funny).
- We danced to a loop of Oh bla dee until one of us finally fell asleep.
- We read bookies with papa, the three of us squeezed in C's little beddy.
- We wrapped presents. If you don't know, two-year-olds are awesome gift-wrappers.
- A text came in from the stealth fairy godmother alerting us that there was a feller at the front door, in case we hadn't heard his wee fists knocking, and he turned out to be an M&M, or as C says: a hm hm. And he was promptly opened and plundered and eaten, proving chocolate can find its way around a lack of appetite.
- Pizza for dinner; C barely touched hers, a sign that she really isn't herself!
And now she is asleep, and twice since I began this post she's stirred and cried and I've gone in and lay down with her. She sleeps much better when I'm cuddling her. Usually when she gets sick I just go with it and go to be early, spoon her tiny self and read for a few hours. The reading part is a rare luxury, of course, but the cuddling is something pretty awesome too. Her fierce little perfect self, she is a marvel, I don't even know how to describe the wonder of holding one's sleeping child, the way they quiet and curl into you, like you are a place of perfect safety. It's ... not too bad.
A snapshot from yesterday: when my parents brought her home from making gingerbread men with nonna, and she dashed toward me, her face alight with eagerness, baggie of decorated cookies held up to show me, most of them broken by the time she reached me.
There's a quote I used once on a Laini's Lady, before I was a parent, and I love it even more now than I did then:
To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.
On days like this.
Yeah, I didn't get any work done. Yeah, all the whining my have affected my blood pressure a little, but cuddling up to that little sleeping creature at the end of the day, listening to her breathing while sneaking in some quality reading time ... Why am I still blogging? I'm sneaking back to bed ... :-)