Just Write (2)

A Marpac white noise machine set on high, a box fan set on level 2, and a humidifier. I'm doing my best to approximate the sound of a jet engine to lull my children to sleep, lest they be bothered by the incessant jack-hammering going on next door. I have tried not to complain about our neighbor's construction project since I know there's nothing I can do about it, and in the end it may improve our home value, but c'mon, it's been over a year now. Work ceased for months, allegedly due to money woes, and I did not complain about the eyesore or the sound of the giant tarp blowing in the wind, covering the gaping back of a house that looked more like one of those fake house fronts from a movie set. Now the job has recommenced, and when work is on, it's on, sometimes from seven a.m. to ten p.m., six days a week. 

Yesterday all three kids had fevers at the same time, a first for us. We headed to the pediatrician's office and discovered Waylon has a double ear infection. In theory, Joe was going to help me wrangle the kids to the doctor's, and then we'd drive him the rest of the way to work. Instead, June threw up all over him minutes after we were shown to a room. That sentence really doesn't do the scene any justice. June had to be stripped down to her underwear, not even her shoes were spared, and we were given hospital swaddling blankets to wrap her in to take home. Joe left in his undershirt after wiping vomit from his pants, shoes, sweater, shirt, and hair. When vomit seeps through to your underwear, it's time to head for the shower, not the office. Thank goodness Joe was able to help out yesterday.

Sometimes I think he and I do best in crisis mode. I mean, once any initial panic subsides, (and there often is some), we seem to come together, stop instructing, stop criticizing, and just deal as best we can. It's nothing admirable, really, we just find peace in difficult moments, I guess. Maybe it takes the pressure off when you know there's nothing you can really do to improve things, so you might as well just get along getting through it. Of course, kid barf in a pediatrician's office isn't exactly rock bottom, but I'd like to think we'd do as well in a more serious crisis.

Everyone's doing better today. Waylon was at his most snuggliest of all time yesterday, truly a little hot potato. His need to be held was so great that his feet did not touch the ground until 3:17 p.m. by my watch. A lot of parenting isn't necessarily instinctive, but to me this sick stuff comes pretty naturally.



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