15 April 2006
being sick
Being sick as a Mom to six is an experience everyone should have.
Six: "Mom, MOM!!! You sick???" Horrified look. In Haiti, being sick usually has dire consequences. I reassure him.
"Mama's going to be just fine, don't worry sweetie. I took some medicine and I'll be up pretty soon."
He's relieved, though still a bit suspicious, and takes it upon himself to deliver the deliciously alarming news at sound-barrier-breaking volume to the rest of the kids, who come barreling up the stairs and over the bed in a tsunami of hard pointy elbows and knees and snotty noses to give me hugs and kisses and bruises in quite surprisingly painful places. They shower me with boxes of kleenex (missing my eye by a good 2 inches--what an arm that Six has!), cups of tea that do not spill their entire payload on the comforter, favorite stuffed animals, hard and loud toy helicopters and battle droid things, Ibuprofen clutched in sweaty little palms dispensed by a big kid who can open the childproof tops which I cannot, and extremely LOUD whispers in my ear telling me they love me.
This is why Moms get well so fast. We have to. If we don't get busy and get up, the second wave of caretaking will finish us off.
Six: "Mom, MOM!!! You sick???" Horrified look. In Haiti, being sick usually has dire consequences. I reassure him.
"Mama's going to be just fine, don't worry sweetie. I took some medicine and I'll be up pretty soon."
He's relieved, though still a bit suspicious, and takes it upon himself to deliver the deliciously alarming news at sound-barrier-breaking volume to the rest of the kids, who come barreling up the stairs and over the bed in a tsunami of hard pointy elbows and knees and snotty noses to give me hugs and kisses and bruises in quite surprisingly painful places. They shower me with boxes of kleenex (missing my eye by a good 2 inches--what an arm that Six has!), cups of tea that do not spill their entire payload on the comforter, favorite stuffed animals, hard and loud toy helicopters and battle droid things, Ibuprofen clutched in sweaty little palms dispensed by a big kid who can open the childproof tops which I cannot, and extremely LOUD whispers in my ear telling me they love me.
This is why Moms get well so fast. We have to. If we don't get busy and get up, the second wave of caretaking will finish us off.
life planning
At the dinner table last night:
Six: "When I get big I gon' be a doctor....I give everybody SHOTS!" (Simulated sounds of needles--apparently mammoth ones--entering fleshy spots.)
Four: "I'm gonna be a police so I can shoot people!"
Two: "I am going to be a dentist."
Three: "hahaha. You gotta touch people's tongues!"
Two (this hasn't, apparently, occurred to her): "EWWWWWW. Never mind!"
Six: "When I get big I gon' be a doctor....I give everybody SHOTS!" (Simulated sounds of needles--apparently mammoth ones--entering fleshy spots.)
Four: "I'm gonna be a police so I can shoot people!"
Two: "I am going to be a dentist."
Three: "hahaha. You gotta touch people's tongues!"
Two (this hasn't, apparently, occurred to her): "EWWWWWW. Never mind!"
