Simply the Best

This whole week has been one big blur and I, for one, am glad that it has come to a beautiful close. Two out of three of my children have been sick with an unidentified upper respiratory illness that is not Covid. Funny how we all forgot that other viruses exist in the midst of this pandemic and that those viruses can and will make us feel like crap. In fact, I’m pretty convinced that these little buggers have been waiting on the sidelines for the past two years, quietly injecting themselves with whatever they could find to ramp up for battle. Now they’re back in the field, the sound of Eminem’s Without Me playing in the background. “Look! Kids comingling on a playground! CHAAAAAARGE!” I can hear them saying. Ugh.

J.D. went to get tested last weekend and held his cough in for the entire time that we were there. Once outside, he started coughing like a 90-year-old TB patient. “Ugh. I’ve been holding that in.” he said. “You know, coughing is still allowed.” I told him. “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t want people to give me a look.” he admitted. Imagine that. We no longer feel comfortable clearing our airways. God forbid one of us chokes in public. With a negative test result in hand, we both felt a sense of freedom. However, the fact remained that he still felt lousy which started the next round of “What do we do?” that parents often play. When children are sick on top of adults needing to work, the stress level goes through the roof. Suddenly you are reminded of the fact that you very actively play many roles in your life and all of them are quite important. Do you stay home? Do you go to work? Do you pump them full of Advil and send them off? Let me tell you, the latter method has been a parent favorite for oh so many years but Covid really put an end to that. J.D. ended up staying home on Monday and handled himself quite well while I was at work. Of course, Nana and Grampy were also there though I made it quite clear that he was very capable of feeding and caring for himself. Nana is a Mom and will always be a Mom; I just have to remind her that she is 87 and therefore I have visions of her tripping while trying to scurry around to bring a sick child something.

The next day dawned and J.D. was well enough to return to school. I went on my merry way to a professional development day at school and sat myself smack dab in the middle of a row in the front center of the auditorium for the special speaker. Around 10:30, my phone started ringing (on silent but still) and I could see that it was the boys’ school. Any parent will tell you that seeing this number on your phone will ignite panic. This parent will tell you that it ignited the word “shit” to quietly eek from my mouth. Not only was the school calling, I also had to hurdle at least 10 other humans to get out of my row and out of the auditorium to take the call. Next time, I get the aisle seat. “I have Isaac here and he says he is not feeling well and wants to go home.” I was surprised to hear his name, having been convinced that the call was for J.D. I knew that I needed to go get my little guy, he doesn’t like to feel sick (who does?) and it is an interloper to his routine and sense of normalcy. Once home, Isaac curled up on the couch and watched Elf which he had been begging to watch for at least two weeks. He was, in essence, “fine” but he is most definitely a Mama’s boy, particularly when sick. I imagine this will carry well into adulthood but for now it is endearing because he is 11 and adorable.

Wednesday arrived and Isaac had to stay home from school as did I. He is not quite at J.D.’s level of self-sufficiency yet and needs a steady presence when home and not feeling well. He milked me for all I was worth, though. He really did. He knows how to play the system. Halfway through the day, I was 100% ready to send him back to school as I watched him amble up and down the three floors of the house trying to entertain himself. I felt guilty for not being at work because, well, I’m Irish and was raised Catholic; guilt is woven into my soul. Although I know that family does come first, work is quite important to me too and I value my role at school. I actually miss my students when I don’t see them and worry about them like a nervous mother who has left her child in the care of some unknown. Yes, I know I’m just a Spanish teacher but I like to think that I add a little color to their days. A teacher can dream.

I returned to work and Isaac returned to school. On the mend, he handled his Thursday and Friday like a champ and I managed to finish my week by giving a test. While all of these shenanigans were going on, I have neglected to mention a miracle that was happening in my group of “besties”; a miracle of which I am very proud. My dear friend Kelli who has acted as a surrogate for the past 9 months for a very deserving couple at last made that couple a family with a flawless delivery via C-section on Tuesday. Their lives and hers, forever intertwined, will now be so full having created and nurtured this little gift of life. Kel finally cracked a beer open on Friday evening, the first in almost a year. “It feels so wrong…..yet so right!!” she said, to which Meg said “It’s all right.” and I said “You go girl!” Kel is one of the strongest women I know and I am so fortunate to call her one of my “besties”. When she told me she was carrying another couple’s baby, I’m pretty sure I said something along the lines of “of course you are” because that’s just who she is. The fact that she sent us girls a video of her dancing to “Push It” by Salt-n-Pepa first thing that morning and that she does the worm at every wedding she attends should paint an even more complete, entertaining picture for you. She is as funny as she is strong; an epic combination. Kel, the masterpiece of humanity that you performed this week helped me reframe and look at my own trials and tribulations with a little less disdain. Here’s to this next week which will undoubtedly be even better than the last. As you continue on with your healing, Kel, know that we besties are ready and waiting to celebrate you when you are. After all, we can’t let you drink that celebratory beer alone. We love you, Kel. In the words of Tina Turner, “You’re simply the best, better than all the rest.”