Thursday, April 5, 2012
Clean clothes have been piled in baskets around my room for three days now.
They sit there as unkempt, hostile road blocks, waiting to trip any passerby.
They leer from their piles, as if to mock me for not being able to get to them.
Every night as I turn off the light I make a mental note.
"Amy," I say to myself, "if you only get one thing done tomorrow, make it be the clothes. You will thank you, your toes will thank you, and Jeffrey most of all will thank you."
Every time, though, the next day dawns, and my plans are thwarted. The clothes devils take fiendish delight in finding ways to keep the piles there, growing ever higher and more precarious.
Tuesday I was going to fold them, but Faye got sick. She had a fever of 104.5. My arms grew a Faye sized and little girl smelling growth. I couldn't put her down, no matter how much I tried. She wouldn't let me. With every attempt, her hot arms would hold tighter and she would whimper. I eventually gave up doing anything and sat on the couch with her and read. I couldn't even get up to cook dinner. Jeffrey cooked. We had ramen.
Wednesday was much the same. From the moment she opened her eyes, she was clingy. She didn't nap at all, rather laid heavy in my arms. Like a sloth. I was her personal back rubber. If I stopped, she would pick up my hand, put it back on her back (or arm, or leg, or face, or tummy...) and I would have to continue. Again, her temperature fluctuated between 103 and 104. Even when she was on tylenol it was still around 102. I decided to call the doctor.
I made an appointment and then we went outside to eat a popsicle. She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast Tuesday morning and since she wanted a popsicle, I was thrilled she was eating. We sat on the porch in that gorgeous weather and watched butterflies spastically fly around the yard. I wonder how they don't all get dizzy with their erratic flying patterns. We watched the birds eat from the bird feeder, and she complained as the popsicle dribbled down her hand. I leaned over, and licked off the excess so it wouldn't get all over her. Then it was time to take her in.
The doctor was very pleasant and sympathetic. He wasn't her usual doctor. We couldn't get in to see her. But I wasn't too upset. We had seen him before and he has an excellent bedside manner. He asked for all her symptoms: runny nose? nope. coughing? nope. vomiting? nope. rash? nope. He checked her ears, eyes, and throat, and saw nothing. He was baffled. What on earth could be driving her fever so high? As a last precaution, he decided to do a mouth swab.
Five minutes later he came back.
"Well, I have to say, I am very surprised. Not astounded, but surprised. She has strep throat!"
What a relief to finally know what it was.
And then my throat started to tickle. My head started to hurt. I had to laugh at myself. The power of suggestion is strong with me. I do hope I don't get it from helping her with her popsicle, though.
Another day gone, and no clothes folded.
As I turned off the light last night, I made the same promise to myself. Same as always. I will fold the clothes tomorrow, even if I don't get anything else done. The clothes will be folded!
But Faye didn't sleep last night.
Or I should say, I didn't sleep last night so that she could.
She didn't sleep in her bed at all. We tried eight times. She would fall asleep, and ten minutes later would wake up crying. After midnight, we decided to just let her in my bed. I knew that was the end of my sleep.
I had to lay facing her all night. If I tried to roll over she would wake up and cry. I had to rub her belly and back all night. If I stopped, she would wake up and cry. She wiggled, she kicked. She moaned, and she poked me in the eyes.
I am tired.
Around 3:00 I needed to use the bathroom. Whenever I tried to get up, the crying would start again. I held it. Until 8:00 I couldn't wait any longer. It wasn't possible.
I got up.
She woke up.
And we were up for the day.
Thank heavens it is Spring Break, though. My blessed Mother in law was so sweet to understand that I needed to go to the gym. If I didn't I would be unbearably grumpy for the whole day. How is it that going to the gym on no sleep makes me more pleasant? Love those endorphins! They are like magic.
And then it was time for lunch, and then it was bedtime.
Bedtime started at 1:00. It is now after 3:00.
Guess who is still not sleeping? She is currently sitting in the naughty corner. Faye is so tired. Her eyes are screaming "close me! Rest me! Give me a break" and she just shakes her curls and commands them to get back to work. She has been jumping on the bed, playing with anything that is near her. Blankets, pillow, her bear, books, a comb, shoes, anything she can get her hands on. She climbed up onto Keith's bed and was playing with his things up there. He had just barely decided he did need to sleep (this was about twenty minutes ago).
I was going to fold the clothes during nap-time.
I swear I was!
Somehow those little clothes folding devils knew this and thwarted me once again. This week they are so good at their job. Oh so good.
Why am I writing this instead of folding?
That is simple.
Have you ever tried to fold clothes with a two year old around? That is self defeating work. The clothes become unfolded faster than they can be folded.
That is the only time I can ever fold clothes.
But quite frankly, right now, I just want to curl up under my covers with Faye, and go to sleep.
But I tried that already.
Fingers in the eyes, blankets stolen, bed jumped on, me jumped on...
Tomorrow, I will be the one to foil those little devils or we will all start living in wrinkled clothes from clothes baskets...
This is me, wishing for some clothes angels to perform a miracle and fold all my clothes for me!