(Semi) Perfect

Home with a semi-sick child.

Semi because we're are at the tail end of sick. The part that has mostly just a lingering cough with a dash of blech. But he still cannot eat any dairy. So of course that's all he wants. I just convinced him there is some cheese in goldfish crackers.

Semi also because with the current flu climate at school, I would rather keep him home one day than have him returned to sender. Because that is how reputations are made. Must not be the working mother who sends a sick child to school. She is never asked to be room mother. And though I need to not volunteer for literally anything else, I really really really want to be the mother that makes other mothers wonder "How does she do it?"

Jack's Halloween costumes are a perfect example -- I love love love making things with him and for him. I love the challenge and figuring and the trial and error but mostly I love the moment when he sees what we've made. Priceless.

Still, as an admitted egomaniac, I also love when someone asks me "Did you MAKE that?"- so I can make quite a show of my almost perfected "smile and nod" routine that I hope looks humble and would convince Spielberg.

Sorry, back to Jack...

If you were to hear him cough, sadly, you would invariably think he started smoking shortly after his first day of daycare in 2006. He is still stuffed up. He still has the sick breathe. Luckily, he doesn't have fever eyes.

I asked my mother when I was pregnant "How will I know if he has a fever?"
She was sweeter than I deserved at the time (I was a real challenge pregnant) and replied "You'll just know."

I thought she was crazy. How would I know? I have never been able to tell a fever from touch. I frankly don't enjoy sick people. Most sick people are not nearly as grateful as I think they should be. (Not like sick, sick - but you know, episodic sick) I couldn't imagine my reaction were I to be thrown up on. (that will have to be a blogspot next- remind me to tell you about Liz watching me nurse)

Another of the millions of things no one tells you before you have a kid - no one tells you that once the kid arrives there are fever eyes and sicky breathe and you'll know the difference. Or that after the 4th ear infection you can diagnose like Dr. Spock. And Strep? Forget about it - I can smell Strep at this point. Pink eye? One month in a daycare and you can spot pink eye at 20 paces.

Amid the chaos of a sick day (semi or otherwise) I look around my tiny house and think how far I am from the picture perfect mom I fancy I could be (if I had the time to get everything together).

I am thinking of the commercials I've seen of children in bed with colds, propped up in their perfectly appointed bedrooms, hair perfect, gently coughing and reaching for a tissue on their side table. Pajamas are pressed, sheet folded at their chest, teddy at their side. Mother looking lovingly from the doorway, hair and makeup all did'ed up.

Yeah, that's not me.

This is my current view.


I am sitting on the floor of our living room under a fort made out of sofa pillows. I am wearing a cape and trying to reply to a work e-mail on my blackberry. Jack is wearing a swimsuit over his pajama bottoms and a OBAMA FOR PRESIDENT t-shirt that could be Lucio's. We've made a table out of Tinker Toys and there is a yard crain fixing what I thought was a fort but have learned is a hotel. Jack's DNA is everywhere in tissue form and he is calmly explaining to Buddy (our aging mix breed dog who does not enjoy dress up) that he needs to stay in the tent to be safe from the Tsunami. I need to figuure out what to make for dinner that he will eat and doesn't contain dairy. Breakfast dished are in the sink and at the table and for some unknown reason, on the back of the toilet in our bedroom. Beds are not made. My cell phone is blinking and I need a shower. Jack's crawls over to me and asks me if he has to go to school tomorrow. I tell him it will depend but he appears to be getting better and he will probably go. He crawls into my lap (almost 4 feet tall and about 50 pounds) and kisses my cheek. Then he coughs.

This is what perfectly happy looks like.