A few weeks ago, I dropped Lacy off at preschool and remarked to my aunt (who was teaching) that my son had croup.
“We haven’t been sick for a long time,” I knocked on wood, “So I guess it’s our turn.”
I had no idea the ill forces of germs swirling around me heard what I said.
“You turn? Your turn?” They buzzed around me, clinging to my jeans and hovering over my lips.
The croup came and went. Then it was the colds. Then it was pink eye. Before Lacy’s was gone, Trent had it. Before Trent’s was gone, Lacy started coughing.
She’s still coughing.
His eye is still showing signs of The Pink Death.
And last night, in the middle of our mad dash to the city to spontaneously catch a late-night showing of “Tangled,” my dear boy started heating up. Smack dab in the middle of the action that literally had his sister on the EDGE of her seat, he clawed his way to my chest and fell fast asleep.
Last night, he refused his bed and asked in a very worn, small voice for “Mama…” That voice, it turns out, has the ability to melt me completely and quickly.
Yes, son I’ll hold you.
Yes, son I’ll give you $20.
Yes, son here’s the keys to the car.
Yes, son you can live with me forever.
We had a blast at the movies. We haven’t set foot outside in days, and it was great to really escape for just a few hours. The fortunate thing about having my husband as my husband is that he loves his family sososo much. Like… he does whatever he can to take care of us but still insists on spending tons of time with us. How he manages it is beyond me.
We took a mad dash to the city on Saturday to take care of our BIG shopping trip. I hired out one of my piano students to watch the kids from 10 am to 6 pm. We shopped bulk. We shopped Wal-Mart. We shopped Target. We shopped Claire’s (on account of the birthday girl). Our pocketbook did not escape unscathed. So when my husband balanced his checkbook to see how much dough was left over to see IF we could make it to the movies… he drew a dire conclusion: nope. No movie for the birthday girl.
There’s a local theater, and we thought we’d just take her there. I looked them up online for movie times and prices, and they weren’t open yesterday. I texted the news to my husband who instantly texted back that WE WOULD FIND A WAY. I found a missing check for $30. He counted the change in his change jar. We all rejoiced and made the trek to the late night showing on what little we had.
(dad bought the kids little kiddie snack combos with his quarters. What a man.)
And you know what? It was 233449% WORTH IT. It makes facing yet another day of sickness and cancelling practically everything I’m supposed to attend to doable.
Family has a way of doing that to you.
And by “that” I mean sharing sickness.
By “that” I mean making you laugh so hard you cough your lungs into your throat.
By “that” I mean bolstering your spirits when you haven’t had a hint of sunlight in weeks and are starting to show signs of Cullen.
By “that” I mean loving you enough to put two feet under you when you can’t put them there for yourself.
As we were getting ready to leave the theater, my daughter thanked me for “her movie” and then went on to say, “I will just keep my mom and dad and when we wake up in the morning time, we will come to flag and it will be my birthday and I will be FIVE!”
She has NO IDEA how true that is. It feels like she was born yesterday. Surely she’ll be at least FIVE tomorrow, if not 15.
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