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Archives from 2002-2006

Riley seems to be dealing with some lingering effects of being sick, at least we suspect he’s still not feeling 100% but it’s impossible to tell for sure. He’s been more moody than normal, prone to insane outbursts of crying and sorrowful episodes where he just sort of drapes himself over the furniture, lays his head onto his blanket, and sniffles “no” in response to every question we ask. I wish I could run some sort of Star-Trek-esque diagnostic machine over him, something that would tell me whether his system is still sub-par or if he’s just getting a jump start on his teen years. If he were constantly acting weird, I’d take him to the doctor, but lots of the time he seems totally fine, his regular old spirited/chattery self, and I don’t know, maybe we’re just going through one of those awful toddler stages?

Adding to the Possible Mysterious Illness mix, Dylan barfed a couple times yesterday and then had himself a, um, Diaper of Horror, which had me drumming my fingers and staring fixedly at him and trying to figure out if he looked sick, while he remained relentlessly cheery and bright-eyed and coo-ey and temperature-free.

So maybe our household is rife with disease at the moment, and maybe everything is perfectly normal. I have no idea, but it is stressing me right the fuck OUT. In the midst of dealing with the maybe-sick, maybe-not children yesterday I happened to read a nightmarish story about a mother whose 6-month-old became feverish one night and they took him in to the ER where they were sent back home with a flu diagnosis and after he continued to get worse they took him back to the doctor where he DIED OF MENINGITIS IN HER ARMS TWO HOURS LATER, and I’m really sorry I just shared that with you but I can’t stop thinking about it and feeling something like a full-body freakout because oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

I don’t know how to mitigate the Parental Anxiety when it descends. Most of the time I feel like I’m a fairly low-key mom, I don’t stress too much about things that are out of my control or that aren’t worth my energy, but sometimes . . . man, sometimes the act of loving someone can be nearly unbearable, because there is so goddamn much to lose.

My luxurious Mother’s Day treat involved spending part of the afternoon rooting around our neighborhood Ross Dress for Less like a discount-sniffing truffle pig, and it was pretty much exactly my perfect sort of activity. Forget fancy breakfasts lovingly prepared by husbands and/or children: on my Very Special Day I want to go try on bargain basement clothing items in a crappy, smelly store lit by horrifying fluorescents and featuring the world’s most apathetic staff. Because I am KLASSY.

JB did give me breakfast in bed, though. Aw, who’s a good husband? He also slyly handed me one of his furniture-making periodicals first thing in the morning and announced he had an EXTRA gift for me, heh heh heh. Naturally, the title of the magazine was WOOD.

Our family outing for the day was to a nearby botanical garden, where I carefully balanced several river rocks on my shoulders while Dylan squirmed restlessly in the Bjorn carrier:

And JB demonstrated Tantrum Management Maneuver #47: The Marlin Hold.

On Saturday we left both kids with the grandparents as planned, despite the fact that both of them were acting like this:

At first I felt bad about saddling JB’s folks with the crabby, soul-sucking children, but as our car pulled out of the driveway the guilt was replaced by a nearly giddy sense of freedom. “Let’s not talk about the kids at all tonight,” I said to JB, and he readily agreed. That promise lasted for about three minutes but it was a fine night regardless: we saw Iron Man (very fun, I highly recommend it), and had an amazing dinner including DESSERT. I haven’t had dessert in three damn months and it is maybe embarrassing to admit but the prospect of chocolate? Officially more enticing than the offer of morning WOOD. Listen up, men: this is why you should constantly tell your women how hot their muffin-tops are, because otherwise they go on diets and their priorities get all KINDS of fucked up.

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