Good News, Bad News

The Bad News

So, yeah. Yesterday.

It was, in a word, ugly. And it got even uglier, if you can imagine, after I dashed off my last post in a fury.

The Poo was asleep when I got home from the doctor, as rare an event as ever there was. Mr. C went upstairs to watch sports and I sat in the living room with our sleeping girl.

She woke up crying, hopped off the sofa and ran over to me for a cuddle. I held her, and felt how hot she was.

A fever, a wracking cough and labored breathing. She just didn’t look right. I called for my husband, and we bundled her in the car for a trip to urgent care. The poor kid choked on her own mucus and threw up in a wadded-up sweatshirt in the car.

Oh, I felt so bad.

I almost took her to the doctor Wednesday, when she ran a small fever, but didn’t because it seemed like she was just fighting something off. It’s hard to distinguish between illness and allergies this time of year.

She sat in my lap in the waiting room, head tucked under my chin. I breathed in her sweaty, sick scent and sang softly as she whimpered. The clincher came when she looked at me with glassy eyes and begged for my mom.

“Meema,” she said, tears stranded in a tangle of lashes. “I wanna go to Meema’s house.”

“Oh, baby,” I said. “I do, too, but we can’t, honey, it is too far away.”

“We can take a plane?” she asked, hopeful. “A plane that goes up and down like a roller coaster? Tomorrow?”

Mr. Chicken distracted her and I laid my cheek against her crown and cried. I miss my family so much right now. I am torn between not feeling up to traveling solo through O’Hare with The Poo and an ache inside that reminds me daily that I haven’t been back East in four months. That’s the longest stretch I’ve been away from my family, well, ever.

Finally we were called in, The Poo was forcibly cultured, and we got a diagnosis of strep. A teaspoon of Tylenol and antibiotics later, she was all smiles and giggles as we tried to herd her into bed at the late hour of 9:15 p.m.

I thought she was asleep when her face popped up again. “Mom,” she said.

“Yeah, Poo?”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow we’ll see Meema? At her house? At the beach?” Her eyes shone in the dark.

I sighed.

“Not tomorrow, baby. But soon.”

And this morning? I woke up with a sore throat and congestion. Looks like that visit will have to wait awhile longer.

*****

The Good News

Let’s move on to something fun, shall we?

I ask you to show me the places in your house that make you crazy, to show me that you, too, can’t keep up with the ever-loving tide of crap that makes up the modern American household.

And you did it.

Just take a look:

Three And Holding

My Family Gossip

A Mom’s Life

Rayne Of Terror

Third Time’s A Charm?

Bipolar Lawyer Cook

Milk Breath And Margaritas

Cheese Party

Growing Up Artists

I’m sure I missed someone. If I did, please leave your URL in the comments and I will update as they come in.

I visited all of your posts and looked at your messes, and lawd amighty, ya’ll. You guys got your work cut out for you. And lest you think I’m getting holier-than-thou, take a gander at this:

That’s The Poo’s Pottery Barn train table, a second birthday gift from her beloved Meema. It’s become “that place where we throw all her shit after she goes to bed.”

Anywhoo.

Like I said, you all were such good sports. But we did have a very. clear. winner.

Enter Jeri at Mom-e-centric.

Jeri, I was speechless. If ever anyone needed a fresh tea towel and a bucket of cleaning products, honey, it’s you. I only wish I could send you a maid.

For those of you who don’t read Jeri’s blog, she’s going through a really tough time right now. Her mom is really sick right now, with our nemesis, cancer, and Jeri just started her own business, also.

Can you imagine if we took all the money we’re putting into the war in Iraq and funneled even a fraction of it into cancer research. Hoo boy, we’d lick that disease so fast.

So please. Go look at Jeri’s house and marvel at her bravery in sharing how overwhelmed she is with the world. And while you’re at it, send your best wishes for her mom’s tenuous health.

Jeri, thank you. And send me an email so Seventh Generation can send you your prize. You tea towel will be completed and in the mail by Tuesday, strep be damned.