Trailer Wife

Oh, man. In times of true physical misery, I suppose one clings to the tried and true. For me, this has historically added up to pots of chicken flavored ramen, marathon screenings of Battlestar Galactica and hours spent in lolling vegetation on the couch. Even when I felt really terrible, I would get a little thrill at the prospect of the whole weekday stretched out in front of me; mindless TV-watching without guilt, comfort food, sleep in the afternoon.

Turns out, parents don't get sick days. And to say that I have been "sick," seems to besmirch the common cold's good name. According to the doc, I have one of the worst sinus infections she's ever seen, tonsillitis, a double ear infection and a membrane virus in my right eye. FML.

Of course, this affliction landed the night Sam got home from a week-long business trip, which meant he had a thousand fires to put out on campus and couldn't really stay home nursing me (not to mention the fact that he is THE WORST NURSEMAID on the planet and I wouldn't allow him near me lest I be reminded that self-pity is a choice). So I've been waking up, stumbling through Gusser's morning toilette, driving him to daycare (half-blind!) and then collapsing on the couch for four hours until I have to pick him up in the early afternoon. The only thing keeping me alive: popsicles.

Banana-flavored Twin Pops, to be exact. I have probably eaten three whole boxes this week (that's an average of 12 per day). Even when Gus is throwing handfuls of chewed-toast into my closet or gnawing on my knee caps, these sunny little flavor-bombs give me just enough will-to-live to redirect the kid's missiles and down my antibiotic horse pills.

Banana Twin Pops remind me of home-made slip'n'slides, the smell of baking concrete peppered with dog poop, the feeling of dandilions twirled under my chin, and deep, unkempt grass. They remind me of my sister's messy braids and indian burns. Of sitting on porches and smoking cigarettes. Sigh.

So, thank you, popsicles. In my snuffling, weepy, swollen state, what little affection I can spare for this miserable world is aimed directly at you.

PS - my, (ahem), short-story-themed February posts? You get the picture.