Glassy-eyed girl

I think Kate is trying to catch my cold. Last night she just curled up on the couch and stared, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed at the Muppets. I found her on the couch in her diaper and shirt, just gazing off. I put the pillow under her head and brought her the little cup of Annie's Bunny Grahams* and water. Then I sat on the couch next to her and remembered what a better deal feeling sick as a child was than it is as an adult.

I can remember sitting on the couch, just like that, all buried in soft blankets. My mom kept bendy straws on hand for these occasions - so we could drink while lying down. We were not allowed to use the bendy straws otherwise. When I was very small, like Kate is now, mom would scoop me from my bed (probably prompted by my crying or puking) and carry me out to the kitchen where she'd sit me on the counter in the semi-darkness and administer various medications. It always felt like a special treat to get to sit on the counter. Last night before taking her up to bed (a good half an hour early) I plopped Kate on the kitchen counter and gave her some cough syrup in Jeremiah's miniature A&W Rootbeer glass.

Meanwhile, we've both been watching Sarah like hawks and pointing out to each other each time she sneezes of coughs. No one wants to be sick and I certainly don't want my kids to be sick, but in a twisted way, I'm glad to be able to provide for them that same extra care with some trademark memory-makers, like the rootbeer mug, that comes with childhood illness.

While my mom was known for being a real hardass regarding illness (if you're not bleeding or running a fever above 99 you will be going to school thank-you-very-much), being sick was a time for feeling protected and loved and not in any kind of trouble. What do we have that's comparable in adulthood? I have no idea. I missed a couple days' work with this odious plague and all I can think about is how backed up my workload will be when I return. Maybe I'll go out and pick up some bendy straws before I go back to work.

*The bunny grahams are another of my favorite things. Kate loves them and they contain no high fructose corn syrup and no trans fats. I'm told trans fats will kill you just as soon as look at you, so I'd be a horrible mother if I let my kids eat them. Of course, I ate them the whole time I was growing up and I've yet to keel over. Although...I suppose I might not have caught this cold I have today had it not been for all the Oreos I ate in the 80s. Ah, the 80s...if the cocaine didn't get you, the partially hydrogenated oils just might, eventually.