Monday, February 19, 2007

He's Laughing at Us

Do I really blame Him? Honestly, how could He resist? Yesterday, I write about it being ski week in these here parts, and that many folks have headed to mountainous points to enjoy some (mostly) uncrowded skiing. I even poked fun at the types of folks who own second or third homes in Sun Valley or in Colorado or in Tahoe. (And, yes, I realize I'd do the same if I had the cash, so it's ridicule steeped in jealousy.)

And I'm rather content to just stick close to home, making forays here and there in San Francisco and Oakland. Oh, aren't I just so lucky to have these places at my feet. Oh, and to have the kids off a full week for us to kick around. And isn't the weather just sunny. Why, you'd think it was May!

The kids have been sick. Sammy started it, bringing a viral demon into the home more than a week ago. Luke soon followed suit. It bypassed Ryan. But we were hopeful that today would be our day to get out. Not to be. We'll be lucky to get to the store today. Luke's miserable. The cough has set in. Ryan was up in the middle of the night, throwing up. And now my mom is getting it.

When I was about 10 or 11, I was sick. My parents had guests coming over, so my mom put me in their bedroom, where there was a TV and a bathroom and everything I'd need. Right before their guests arrived, I felt very sick. I made it to the bathroom, but didn't make it to the toilet. My poor mom, dressed to the nines, was disgusted. Hey, I was sorry and I could understand her disgust, sick as I was.

It was about 2:30 a.m. Ryan is in my bathroom, yelling to me that he just got sick. He, like me, had made it to the bathroom, but not to the toilet. I wasn't dressed to the nines. And I hid my disgust. I spent 15 minutes cleaning up after him. He was actually quite better once he got it out of his stomach. He got back to sleep before I finished cleaning up.

I always try to be cognizant of how easy it is to make them feel much worse than they already do. I mostly succeed in choking back much more than just the urge to...well, you know. I also choke back the reflex of saying, "Couldn't you have tried harder to make it in the toilet or a trash can?" Because they really can't. They do their best. So do parents.
What's it all mean? Someone is laughing. Not me. Yet.

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