Letters to Holly

Friday, November 18

Get Him Healthy

This is necessary accompaniment when we learn the sidekick has another ear infection and must stay home.

When the deputy can not go outside and finds himself stuck in our relatively small house for three out of four days, he's not happy. Neither am I. I spent a healthy chunk of Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday with him on my hip. I too was stuck inside, and the satellite dish saved my sanity. I used the laptop to work from home, but tweaking magazine files through two computers and their internet connections is rough going.

Today, he's fever-free and rash free and seemingly regaining his appetite. He woke up last night hungry for the first time in months.

Your Sister is dragging. She goes straight from the dinner table to her office to do school junk. She's not yet at the point where I can help out with papers. I can do little for her. I made dinner last night from a recipe she picked. She forgot to thaw the frozen items including the broth. As she tried to feed a cranky sidekick, I cut the broth out of its box and thawed it in the microwave after hacking it to bits with a knife. I had to split the dish into two pans to cook, and I was teary eyed from the red onions. This was kitchen slapstick.

I at least think I was the doctor's best parent Monday. I gave her what I consider good information and observations about our guy, and we talked about his unwillingness to use words. He might -- might -- have started word mimicry this week. It sure sounded like he said "bright light" after I did this morning.

Picture of the Day
We all need help these days.  #OccupyGotham

Tuesday, November 15

Battle Stations!

Our first car sickness disaster happened yesterday.

We got halfway through our commute -- literally the midpoint-- and I happened to be glancing at him in the mirror when he spit up. That's odd. Ha hasn't spit up in months and months. As I was thinking I should pull over to clean up that slight mess, he made a gigantic one. Seemingly everything he's ate this weekend came up. And it was effortless. It looked like he was no longer babbling in words but in liquid. A soup soliloquy. I was too amazed to be mad. I pulled into a gas station parking lot and discovered his hoodie had caught most of it. I took that off and turned it inside out to bundle the mess. I used his diaper bag items to clean him up, and we drove back home.

My brain has a constant fret swarm buzzing about, arguing that I'm never prepared and never capable. I've been in enough significant moments to know that this panic cloud vanishes when it's time to act. It's merely a barking yip-yip dog, scampering off in times of trouble. Granted, this was ultimately an inconvenience, but this was our first car-bourne eruption which we're led to believe is an inevitable catastrophe for all parents. Did I go James Bond on my son's upchuck? Yes, why not?

I decided he'd stay home even if this was an isolated thing. He didn't have a fever, and he seemed to be in a low gear, but he was playing. A little clingy, maybe, but that's not a bad thing some days. I'll hug my boy. When I called daycare to explain his absence, I was told there was a vomit bug going around. That's info we needed beforehand. He ate lightly and slept heavy, and this morning seemed mostly OK. He made it to daycare unsullied.

We took him into the forest both weekend days to burn off his toddler energy. I worked on a piece of comic art for an online buddy's Christmas surprise. I'll post images after he gets it.

There's been some more nonsense among the family regarding Thanksgiving, and it involves how much money is spent on each grandchild. It makes me want to skip the 12 hours of driving. Would you join us in a defection if we decide to do something else, like Occupy Dollywood? (I'm kidding/not kidding.)

Picture of the Day
This is what Burning Man looks like at night from space.