Did you see the sun today? Did you feel it on your skin and think, I can do ANYTHING today, with a little light in my eyes? Forgive my waxing rhapsodically about one good day of weather out of 50, but it’s been up and way way down around here lately. I thought at this juncture, nearly five months in, I had made it through the roughest patch as far as survival and triumph of my dirty tattered spirit goes. I had made it this far with so little sleep, so little time for others, or myself, and so very little mascara. How? I am a master of attempting to multi-task. Right this second I’m also writing two emails, trying to figure out six other posts for Review 2 A Kill, syncing my phone, eating blue corn chips, wishing my contacts didn’t feel like shards of glass and watching the clock. Because the girl will be up in one hour, at midnight, summoning me with that half asleep hoarse cry and I will then go lay down with her in the bed and feed her while playing Peggle above her head, the light off my iPhone illuminating our little circle of Mama and bub.
Earlier tonight I even made motherf*cking muffins. And then I read her a story (The Rainbow Goblins – thanks Kev!) after she wobbled and yelped and bobbed around in her new Jolly Jumper, where she doesn’t quite grasp yet that she can use her tip toes and jump jump jump! Because there’s almost too much stuff on the thing - it has a 360 swivel seat to facilitate the various stations of fun – when the music and lights kick in, it sounds like she is in her own personal carnival.
But last week? Oh friends, last week should be stricken from the record forever. Of course it was the week that Nuv’s birthday fell. The poor guy got me in my second day of the flu for his birthday present. Post debilitating body ache and pre debilitating diarrhea. May you never have to unlatch your child’s greedy mouth from your breast to stiffly sprint to the bathroom for the 18th time in 4 minutes to have all the water in your body drain out until you are done. A dusty pile of bones and teeth and what little hair I have left on my head shuffling back to the darkened bedroom where a tiny girl who deserves better waits.
Because being sick f*cking sucks. Being sick on Valentines Day when your husband surprises you with these (!) and has a pulled neck and you can’t help him because you need every ounce of help and sympathy in the apartment, double sucks. When you have a baby who still needs to be fed, changed, played with and groomed, it sucks along the lines of going into labour combined with being shot in each kneecap. Oh, and our landlords put the apartment up for sale so I had to clean and vacuum in the midst of all the fluids. All while this song, of all songs, was in my head. It was essentially an upchuck sundae with vegemite on top.
Now that the worst has past and my immune system has had a chance to lick itself clean, I take every healthy day as the best day of my goddamn life. And when the day isn’t grey and wet and the sun creates a long shadow behind you as you walk your girl out in the crisp afternoon air, it really is quite a day.