Hey, Winter! Get Lost

It's been coming all weekend. On Thursday, Joe-Henry had very little dinner. On Friday, after school he said he had felt really nauseous at school, and asked if he could take a nap. Then yesterday, he rallied a bit, but this morning, damn it, he woke with a fever of 101, and he sounds like he has black lung when he coughs.

February is such a tease. There's Valentine's Day, which I love, with all that lovely sentiment and of course, chocolate. And by February, you can usually tell that spring is around the corner. But we've had crappy luck, health-wise in February. Joe-Henry usually manages to come down with something, followed by one or both of his parents. It seems that this year is no different.

He is lounging in our bed, a little Camille in mismatched pajamas, watching too much tv, and not eating enough to sustain a bird. He's in decent enough spirits, but I can tell he feels wobbly. If he has what they've had at our school, it won't be a fun week. I'm hoping he recoups quickly, because I don't know how much more Nick Jr. I can take.

Oh, and do you remember how I wrote about being That House a while back? Well, those neighbors? The one's with the five kids? They moved out as fast as they moved in. They're still in town, so I hope Joe-Henry can still see his buddy, because the kid next door is getting a bit too old to play with. He comes and hangs out here, because his mom works and he's left with an older brother he doesn't really get along with. Also, I think he likes our snacks. But yesterday, he showed up with two other friends and wanted to play football with Joe-Henry. Mostly because he doesn't have a yard of his own. But when his friend said that he didn't like Joe-Henry, they hightailed it down the street to his dad's place, where hopefully they were all put to work remodeling the house. I was really disappointed in him, even though from JH's side of the story, he did stick up for him when his friend mouthed off. Still, I'm feeling like I wouldn't mind going a round or two with a nine year old. I'll probably just have a chat with his mom - not as satisfying, but it will have to do. And truly, it's where the problem lies.

So anyway, here we are. Out of sorts, under the weather, waiting out winter. It won't be long now.

"thank you for the blessings"

That's the grace we say at our table. It's cobbled together out of my lapsed Lutheran upbringing (where we said grace before my mom died, and then sat in front of the tv with tv trays after she died and said nothing but pass the ketchup), my son's Fire and Brimstone Lutheran preschool grace, and my husband's deeply spiritual athiest beliefs. If we were a dog, we'd be a mutt - soulful, loyal and kind of mangy.

But last night, we said it at our table, holding hands, just as we do everytime we gather together at our table. And I felt deeply, humbly, grateful. I had a horrible flu yesterday, the kind where I actually slept during the day (which I NEVER can do unless I'm sick), I ached in my hair and my eyelashes, and coudn't get warm until I finally figured out to put my hands in the pockets of my robe, buried under down comforters. My husband called in to work, arranged to stay home, even though I told him he didn't have to. I would have crawled out of bed and walked Joe-Henry to the bus, and home again, but he wouldn't hear of it. He got Joe-Henry dressed and walked him to the bus stop in the sleeting rain, came back and did laundry, made me tea, and let me sleep the sleep of the drugged. He brought me flu medicine and the 50 lb. Vanity Fair, hunted all over for my reading glasses, made a delicious dinner and kept his sense of humor. I mention this, because I am not particularly a great nurse. I get things done, but I am efficient, in a Nurse Ratchet kind of way.

He inspired me. He is always a hardworking, loving, hysterically funny husband. And he wears a kilt! There are times when the wave we are riding seems to be too huge to believe that we won't be capsized, but we hang on - to each other, to the promise of the future, to this sweet, funny kid who could make a ride on the Titanic a lot more fun. Not that I'm comparing our marriage to the Titanic, but there have been some rough seas. But our little boat has been pretty sturdy so far.

So, Sweetheart, for no reason other than the fact that you did what you always do - you gave me your best self, selflessly - I love you. Thank you for the blessings.