Jean's Day
My Day began with my 7 year old son coming in very early to say his temperature is still 102 and could he take a bath. I just couldn't wake up yet. A while later he got into bed and pressed his steamy neck against me. I gave him some Tylenol. We've been quarrantined for three days now on our Spring Break; Tech museum and swimming plans cancelled, opportunities gone by. Movies instead, ginger ale, pillows and blankets, frozen fruit bars - they have to be lemon when you have a fever, apparently. My ten year old son is bitter. His brother has ruined everything by being sick. They do play together though, Axis and Allies, Beanie Babies, computer games, fort. Tonight we hope to get them new bunk beds we found on Craig's list. They don't know but David will go up to Ladera to look at them this evening. I'm trying to pack for our trip to Sea Ranch tomorrow but I don't get far. I can't find the thermometer any more and can't remember when I gave the last dose of Motrin. There is a huge pile of clean laundry to fold but it's in the room where Michael is watching a movie about dinosaurs and I just can't go in there right now with all the bellowing and roaring.
Well it's evening and Michael and Christian have been installed in their new bunk bed. All was confusion at five oclock when I realized that Christian had a sore throat along with the fever and rushed him off to the clinic for a throat culture. Michael had just gone off on his bike for a little recreation at his old preschool a few blocks away. This was his first ever solo bike ride but in my rush to get Christian to the doctor I had to stop by there and let him know we were going. I wanted him to go with us but I knew his dad would be home soon so I gave him the choice of coming with or playing for five more minutes and riding home. He chose independence. It was hard to leave him out there on his own but Michael has a level head, the back door was unlocked, and there are no busy streets to cross on his way home. As I drove away I was calling his dad to make sure he'd be home soon. It turned out Christian has no strep, Michael made it home before his dad, and they went up and got the beds while we were at the clinic. They are very happy with the new arrangement since the bottom bunk is a fort for Michael and Christian loves the heights. This was one of those days where every single thing I did was about the children, from the trip to Krispy Kreme for consolation donuts because of the fever to the stop at Tower Records for some new dvds to everything else I did. I miss having the day to do my own things, yoga, writing, meditation, coffee perhaps with a friend. But unlike when they were little and every single day was about them from midnight to morning to noon to bed, days like this are fewer and I can savor their moments - sitting elbow to elbow with Michael watching a movie about the RAF narrating to each other and cackling over the lurid details; waiting at the clinic with Christian's feverish limbs wrapped around me like a boa, moments of conflict, of squalor, of humor, and the kind of closeness that you only get when you allow yourself to really be with your children. It's very rich, absorbing, hypnotic, and ephemeral. I can't believe that some day there will be no more days like this for us. My heart will just fall out on the floor. JeanZ
Well it's evening and Michael and Christian have been installed in their new bunk bed. All was confusion at five oclock when I realized that Christian had a sore throat along with the fever and rushed him off to the clinic for a throat culture. Michael had just gone off on his bike for a little recreation at his old preschool a few blocks away. This was his first ever solo bike ride but in my rush to get Christian to the doctor I had to stop by there and let him know we were going. I wanted him to go with us but I knew his dad would be home soon so I gave him the choice of coming with or playing for five more minutes and riding home. He chose independence. It was hard to leave him out there on his own but Michael has a level head, the back door was unlocked, and there are no busy streets to cross on his way home. As I drove away I was calling his dad to make sure he'd be home soon. It turned out Christian has no strep, Michael made it home before his dad, and they went up and got the beds while we were at the clinic. They are very happy with the new arrangement since the bottom bunk is a fort for Michael and Christian loves the heights. This was one of those days where every single thing I did was about the children, from the trip to Krispy Kreme for consolation donuts because of the fever to the stop at Tower Records for some new dvds to everything else I did. I miss having the day to do my own things, yoga, writing, meditation, coffee perhaps with a friend. But unlike when they were little and every single day was about them from midnight to morning to noon to bed, days like this are fewer and I can savor their moments - sitting elbow to elbow with Michael watching a movie about the RAF narrating to each other and cackling over the lurid details; waiting at the clinic with Christian's feverish limbs wrapped around me like a boa, moments of conflict, of squalor, of humor, and the kind of closeness that you only get when you allow yourself to really be with your children. It's very rich, absorbing, hypnotic, and ephemeral. I can't believe that some day there will be no more days like this for us. My heart will just fall out on the floor. JeanZ
posted by Captain Cook at 9:26 AM
1 Comments:
Jean, you are such a great writer, so much at ease with words!
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