Well, the muse just hasn't come with inspiration for this edition of the chronicle and this isn't the first time I've felt dumb this week.
I felt pretty dumb around 3:00 on Thursday afternoon, when I thought, "Huh, I've only been puked on twice today...that's good." Absurd, isn't it, to consider a day in which you were puked on at all, good? But after being up all of the previous night with a very sick little Henry, and getting thrown up on too many times to count, making it most of the way through Thursday with only two messy "hiccups" seemed...good. He has already returned to nearly full speed, just in time for Nate and I to catch what he had, but we were lucky to get a much milder case, and we're almost back to full capacity. We won't be the only ones who will be glad to see this virus pass, though. The structure formerly known as our home, which has morphed into one giant un-made bed, and our washer, that has been working overtime to launder all of our soiled linens, will also be glad when we achcieve immunity and return to good health.
Before we came down with the bug we managed to get our bedroom painted and put together. Perhaps the oft repeated slogan, "everything's bigger in Texas" has settled into some obscure wrinkle of my subconscious because I bought an obnoxiously big, undeniably rustic, lodgepole bed on Craig's List and I LOVE it! After we set it up and put our sheets on, I strategically placed all five of our pillows against the headboard and sat back in perfect admiration. Nate once asked me why we have five pillows when there are only two of us who sleep in the bed -- I answered his query with a rhetorical question of seven simple words..."Have you never looked at Pottery Barn??" Great bed requirement No. 1: Must have many superfluous pillows. The only trouble with buying things like new beds is that they create a string of wants. After setting up our bed, I now want new sheets, a new duvet cover, a few more superfluous pillows and some new lamps to put on top of our nightstands. (Sigh!) Patience
is a virtue.
Henry doesn't have much patience for things that steal my attention. The problem is compounded by the fact that I've gotten good at transporting myself into a focused zone of concentration when I'm writing or working on a project. So good, in fact, that I sometimes don't even hear Henry's pleas for attention. But he's gotten good at recapturing my attention. He quickly figured out that the best way to penetrate my concentration bubble is to wriggle himself between me and whatever I'm absorbed in, put his face directly in front of mine, and state his desires. In moments of utter desperation, he resorts to the sure-fire tactic of placing one of his hands on each of my cheeks and turning my head to make me look at him. I know that is a frightening comment on my maternal neglect in some instances, but looking on the bright side, it has a sort of Darwinian smell to it...evolving into beings who are strong and wise enough to meet their needs however challenging their environment. Survival of the fittest, perhaps? If Henry weren't so persistent I could go on for hours in those focused states of creativity or meal preparation or closet organizing. Or, as was the case this afternoon...movie watching. I was engrossed in the Polar Express when Henry realized that the fire had died down. He executed the well-rehearsed attention-getting stunt, repeating an undiscernable phrase several times, as he sat in my lap. In an effort to reach understanding, I gave him my hand, hoping that he would lead me to whatever he wanted. He grasped my finger tightly in his, pointed to the fireplace and said, "Fi-ow on." I wished it were as simple as turning the "fi-ow" on. Although we don't have a fire-starting switch, getting the fire going wasn't very hard--with the help of some crumpled newspaper and a "Pine Mountain Firelog" we had orange blazes again in a matter of minutes.
Whether by patience and long-suffering or clever determination, I hope you're all getting what your hearts desire this Holiday Season.