Benjamin came home with a headache on Tuesday.
Which turned into a fever on Tuesday night.
Which turned into puking on Wednesday night.
Which turned into… ahhh, never mind.
The sick fairies spared John Bear and I the vomiting but left us with severe headaches and congestion.
Benjamin pukes like a champ by the way. It frightens me. It’s like the kid is built or designed for college parties. As soon as he feels a squirm in his stomach he runs to the bathroom, puts both hands on the toilet seat, braces himself and then…
Like a pro.
I can hear his future friends cheering him on now as he emerges from the bathroom and declares, “Give me another one!”
I can sit here and hope that’s just a vision, but I’m bracing myself for a time in Benjamin’s life when he’s working hard and playing hard, like his mother used to be. Used to be. Now I can’t have more than two beers without wanting to call it a night and head home.
One shot of tequila is all it takes to make me forget my limits. And then boom – I wake up with a hang over that lasts 48 hours. I’m a light-weight now, what can I say? Drinking and I just don’t get along anymore.
At some point this week, being stuck in the house with my little sick, puking goblin I tested out a new camera lens on my fridge. In this winter darkness of never ending snow and flu, my refrigerator is the brightest thing in the house. An impromptu scrap book, my fridge is where I stick memories I unearth while cleaning or dusting in odd places.
There’s the photo of my sister and I. Our faces warm from spending days by the pool at our apartment in Texas. We were in the back seat of a friend’s car when I took that, moments away from hitting a bar in Austin.
My Athens block is holding us up, near some notes Anna sent me just a few weeks ago. Love my sister. So much.
To the right there’s the picture of John Bear and I, the one I tore it out of a scratch copy of Ms. Single Mama Uncensored. I look like I’m going to maul him or something but I still like that picture. Taken on such a good weekend.
On the bottom right is a picture of my father’s family – my dad is one of the little guys in the front. My grandmother, a single mother to four boys during the 50′s and 60′s is on the top right. I never met her. Like my father, she died of cancer when she was 50. Damn the cancer.
And on the front is Mr. Germ Doctor, always packing a new illness to infect Mommy with.
He hides them so well. The germs. But they’re in there…
[BTW: Those cute Lois Lane magnets are on Amazon.]