It’s been a while since I’ve been healthy. This means its been a while since the family has had regular meals, since the house has been clean, or since anyone’s had fresh underwear. This is my sphere of influence. Yes, when I’m down and out, laundry goes undone. That’s a serious problem, really serious. Serious. It could really effect…something. Important.
After our family course of antibiotics T and I got sick again. We’re both on another round of antibiotics. We have strong germs. R’s are weak; he was cured after the first round. This lingering, lingering, long, long, very long bout of illness has had many unforeseen consequences. Firstly, the makers of Safeway brand vinegar and the makers of Norwex disinfecting cloths are millionaires because of me. I keep disinfecting doorknobs, switch plates, remotes and phones to stop the reinfection of all of our throats and ears. Secondly, our lovely new doctor thinks my husband is a drug addict because he thinks its funny to ask for oxycontin for the pain of strep throat. The third effect, though, is by far the best. It is pulling up to the McDonalds drive through (yet again) and having your three year old clearly articulate his desire for “a chicken nuggets happy meal with a side of hamburgers… and a boy’s toy, please”. Not a proud moment for a parent. He can’t acurately count to ten, but he can very accurately order from a drive through window. He even has the correct use of the specialized language required, as evidenced by the use of the terms “happy meal” and “a side of”. Yes, we’ve been eating a lot of take out lately. On the plus side, R’s gained 3.5 pounds! That’s the 2.5 he lost when I totally ingnored his raging bacterial infection and he nearly starved to death, plus a side of hamburgers.
The other very special memory that I have courtesy of this very long, long, drawn out, long bout of disease was this conversation:
“T, can you go downstairs and get me a drink of water?”
“Why me? We’re both sick.”
“I know, but you’re not really sick. Plus, I have a fever and swollen glands and an ear infection, so you should want to help me.”
“No way man, you’re always sick.”
“So, if I had cancer, you’d say ‘you always have cancer–get your own water’?”
“You have a sore ear, you don’t have cancer.”
“I know, I’m just pointing out the flaw in your logic.”
“If you were missing your legs, then maybe I’d get your water.”
“You watched me give birth to both of your ten-pound children, right?”