You know it's going to be a hard week when it's 7 A.M. on Monday and you are already giving yourself a time out.
It's only after the kids are in bed that night when you realize that you've watched all your Netflix movies and can't send them back until tomorrow. Damn you, President's Day.
On Wednesday things seem to be looking up. You are on your way out of the house to have lunch with Leo. You're pitching him an idea for a podcast, something you've been thinking about for a long time but only now seem to have time for since the kids aren't constantly demanding your attention.
Two blocks away from the house your cell phone rings. It is the babysitter. You know her well enough to know that she is forcing herself to sound calm.
"I think you need to come home now," she says. "Huck hit his head and I think he's going to need stitches."
You can hear the screaming on the other end of the line. Then she explains that he ran into the side of the door. The side of the door? You have removed chemicals, chokeables, and knives. You've gated stairs, anchored bookshelves to walls, and plugged all electrical outlets. And he runs into the side of the door.
When you arrive home the babysitter is holding Huck at the sink. She is entertaining him by letting him splash a wooden spoon in a bowl of water. You are certain that if you'd been home alone with them you would not have been able to be so creative. Huck looks up laughing and his face is covered in blood. That's right, your child's face is covered in blood.
In the emergency room, they put your child in a straight jacket and attach him to something that looks like a tiny surfboard. Only his head is free and he looks at you with eyes that say, "Why are you letting them do this to me?" You feel around the straightjacket and try to find his hand so you can hold it.
Instead of stitches they use some kind of superglue to seal the skin back together again. It's weird, but it beats having to watch them stick a sewing needle into your son's forehead.
When you get home it's time for the babysitter to leave. Huck doesn't seem to remember the trauma of the last few hours. He plays with his sister and brother as if this is like any other day. You have playgroup in a half an hour, so you decide to get the kids ready and go, because why not?
Maybe you really can do it all.
By Wednesday you have a full-blown cold, complete with a fever and the chills. You long for the day when being sick meant sitting in bed all day, catching up on the Ellen Degeneres show. Now, I can call in sick to work, but the real work is still looking me in the eye at 5:45 in the morning wondering why it takes so long to make scrambled eggs.
Thursday night you have dinner guests and you don't cancel because you've already bought the food. Friday you have planned to take the day off of work so you can take the family to the Discovery Museum to meet your friend Cara and her 13 month old daughter. You don't cancel this either because you've known Cara since you were 3 years old and even though she lives only 30 minutes away, you haven't been able to see her in almost a year.
Besides, she has been your friend long enough that she doesn't care that you are blowing your nose all day or that your child kicks her child in the face, both of which happen just as you expected them too.
When you get home at 3:30 you lay on the couch and offer a silent prayer of thanks that your husband is already home. You get up briefly to puke in the toilet and you're amazed at how little this seems to phase you. You feel like Martin Sheen's character in the West Wing, who goes from missle crisis, to labor union trouble, to Presidential fundraising issues, and then always asks, "What's next?"
After you've brushed your teeth, you lay on the couch and ask your husband what time you should tell your friends you're all going to meet at the park the next day.
"You know," he says, "You're going to have to stop at some point."
And as much as you don't like to admit it, he is absolutely right. So, you stop. On Saturday he and your parents take the kids somewhere, you don't care where. And you lie in bed.
And you sleep.
Last week was a sick week for us, too, and it seemed to take forever to get back to good health. I hope you feel better!
My husband listens to all of Leo's podcasts and says that out of all the female guests he has on the shows, you are the most enjoyable to listen to. We will definitely subscribe to your podcast!
Posted by: Meagan | February 27, 2007 at 05:13 AM
Aww.. I'm glad Huck wasn't more seriously hurt.
What sort of podcast are you thinking of doing?
Hope ya feel better soon Megan. ::get better vibes::
Posted by: CoolB | February 27, 2007 at 06:56 AM
Wow... You didn't mention anything about Huck's head! Scary! Ryan did the same thing a few months ago on the back of his head... he gushed. Then they used magical purple super glue and sent us on our way.
Posted by: Mike | March 02, 2007 at 04:45 PM