I know it is strange to admit that getting sick (although it rarely happens) has some sort of excitement in it for me. Like it’s a valid excuse to cancel all obligations and lie in bed and watch T.V. .… Pre-Motherhood, that is. Zachary is extremely oppositional and absolutely refuses to make me chicken noodle soup and Isabelle seems completely unable to thaw her own bottles and grasp the concept of whispering. So, good thing I am not the one who is sick! At least not yet. Zachary had a fever all weekend and his world literally fell around him in shattered and devastating pieces every 17 seconds. Is it bad that Steve and I found many of these dramatic melt downs comical? Have you ever had someone giggle when you feel like your life is ending? Thankfully, he is on the mend, but Isabelle has a fever which I only know about because she didn’t find her brother tackling her nearly as hysterical as usual, so I thought I should check. 102.5. So much for those beloved “breast milk antibodies”! So, we stayed inside and put no expectations on the day.
After puzzle number 8, book number 17, and lego house number 4, I found myself looking at the clock, shocked at how slow time was going. It reminded me of my babysitting years. I always felt guilty that throughout most of these jobs, I was anxiously awaiting the mother’s return. I can remember worrying even at age 14, that maybe I would make a horrible mother because I didn’t enjoy every second with these children. But, I told myself that it would be different with my own. Well, for the most part it is. But there are those days like today, that I find myself looking at the clock every 2 and half minutes wondering “When is your mother coming home?”