One of the blogs I pop over to every now and again, Brooklyn Girl, made a statement in a recent post that mirrors exactly how I feel these days. She said:
I want to have fun. I want to be fun. I just don't remember how.
If you've been on the receiving end of any sort of communication from me in the past six days, whether it be this blog, an email, a phone call or, God bless you, an actual face-to-face conversation, you know the drill: Jane is sick. I am sick. Greg is sick. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. This time it was a stomach bug. She and I are still shaking off the last bits of it; luckily, Greg managed to escape this one (knock wood) with only some mild nausea. Last week was supposed to be a regrouping week for me at work, in between two super-busy weeks, and instead, I only got a couple of days in before the rest was eaten up by sick days. Now I'm in the weeds more than ever.
Sending Jane off to daycare today was hard. I knew she wasn't exactly 100% - her mood was great, but I knew her stomach still was a little touchy, so I told the teachers to feed her gently, don't let her bounce around too much after eating, no weird foods, just bananas and rice cereal. They are great, and when I picked her up at the end of the day, she had had a pretty good day, despite the fact that she got less than an hour nap the whole time (this should be illegal). But I know another sickness is right around the corner.
The first year of daycare is the roughest, everyone tells me. It's always like this. It helps build their immune systems. Pardon me for not being thrilled that she has had a runny nose for a good half of her life. And, please, after the hand/foot/mouth drama and this latest stomach monster, a runny nose is practically welcomed with a ticker tape parade. I scoff at you, runny nose.
I, as you can see, am a little bit of a mess. I know exactly how Brooklyn Girl feels. Every day the past week I've felt like I have barely kept it together, at the very brink of losing it at any moment, never mind actually having or being any fun. I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel sick. I feel like a nag. I feel like I'm spending too much money on Infant's Tylenol. I'm tired of being sicked upon. I. Just. Want. Jane. To. Be. Healthy. Is that too much to ask?
I know there are people with real problems. No one has to tell me this. I know I am lucky. No one has to tell me this either. I remind myself all the time. But I do, from time to time, permit myself a big ol' "WHY ME?" Why does it seem like we can't get one nice sunny weekend, where no one is sick, nothing is broken, everyone is happy, and everyone can actually recharge?
I want to have fun. I want to be fun. I just don't remember how.
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3 comments:
Oh come on! We had fun on our road trip tour of Farmington/Bristol/Who-Knows-Where on Sunday, didn't we? Twenty-six u-turns and we found where we we meant to be going. Wasn't that fun?
Seriously, you need to cut yourself a break and allow yourself to complain. Sure, other people have real problems, but in my frame of reference, you're one of those other people to me. I complain that "OMG I sewed for THREE HOURS and my bag came ouy AWFUL! Waaaaa! Woe is me!" A projectile-vomiting babe is way worse than that, but we all need to complain. Go ahead. I don't mind.
...and by "ouy" I meant "out" but maybe "ouy" is more appropriate.
I've stopped telling people I'm sick - someone will ask me how I am, and I say "Great!" with my croaky cold/TB-type cough voice. I try to ignore the sickness, and be all cheerful through it, but I think I sound like a perky zombie these days. You'll get the fun back. I know it.
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