Vignettes

A few weeks ago, I made a simple dinner of fresh tomato sauce over angel hair pasta. It did not sit well with the baby and not 5 minutes after finishing I was kneeling over the toilet. Since Marc was home and had things under control, I decided to call it a night after that. Wouldn't you? I changed into my pjs and tucked myself into bed with the remote. Anderson saw me watching tv and the following conversation ensued:

A: Why do you get to watch more TV from us?
Me: Because I just threw up.
A: (wide eyed, eye brows raised and with excitement) You did? That was your first time! (side note--he clearly remembers how often I threw up last year)
Me: No, it was my 7th. (It was probably my 9th, at that point I was still able to keep track. That is no longer the case)
A: Can I see it?
Me: No. I flushed it.
A: Are you still sick?
Me: Yes. My stomach still hurts.
A: Oh. . .can I kiss you?
Me: Yes.

Then, without a kiss, he turned and went back downstairs. A few minutes later he and Carter climbed the stairs, headed for their room. He whispered to Carter--She's still sick. But you can kiss her. However, I didn't get a kiss then either. A few minutes after that, Anderson returned to my room to inform me that he wanted a new daddy--apparently Marc had made him angry.

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Last night we finally put up our Christmas tree. It's usually up much earlier in the season, but I just couldn't do it without mopping my floors and since the drywall for our basement was getting installed last week causing a light layer of dust everywhere, I just wasn't going to mop until they were all finished. Monday night we mopped and yesterday we put up the tree. Anderson and I put the tree up and strung the lights while Marc was at work and Carter was at school. Every year I vow I'll do a better job with the lights and every year the bottom branches are sparkle-less because I can't quite get it right. Sigh. By the time we were ready to put the ornaments on after dinner, I was focused on keeping my food in my stomach. So I sat on the chair pulled the ornament box out and Carter began his instructions: first we'll organize the ornaments, then. . . Yes, this is usually how we do it. We unwrap all of the ornaments. Organize them into piles for each person. Then we hang them on the tree. That's how we did it while I was growing up, that's how I do it now. I love how he is beginning to remember tradition but I had to interrupt him. This year, mommy is feeling sick so I'll sit here and unwrap them and hand them to you and Anderson and Daddy can help you hang them. Last night I noticed one ornament was backwards. I fixed it. Tonight I noticed another hung backwards. I didn't fix it. Because this is the year of the imperfect tree.

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I cried in the middle of Walmart today. I was standing in the check out line listening to the lady in front of me talk on the phone about a loved one having bowel problems. I could tell who(m?)ever she was talking about was sick and possibly in the hospital. Intermittently, she was patiently teaching her pre-teen daughter how she likes to unload her groceries onto the belt and then re-load the bags into the cart. Her explanations were very wise. She seemed to be very methodical. She sent her mother who was also shopping with her to go get some things that I guess the person on the phone had said she might need. Meanwhile, she explained to her daughter that this is what they had been preparing themselves for--this is what hospice ment. I assumed they were speaking about a grandfather or a distant relative. Until mom came back saying that pedialyte was found in the peds unit. They both laughed. The daughter wondered what was funny. Mom explained to her that they were so used to talking about the peds unit at the hospital that they had transferred that lingo to Walmart. My heart sank. I wondered if it was inappropriate to ask questions but I couldn't help it. I asked. And as soon as she told me it was her son I started crying. He's 4 1/2. He has a terribly rare disease. He's at home on hospice. There wasn't a lot of time for details but I cried and apologized for crying because she was so put together but my tears made her and her daughter tear up. She asked for prayers. I told her that I would absolutely pray and I wished them a Merry Christmas.