This year is a little different, because I am working. I have a huge pile of papers to grade, in addition to everything else I have to do this week. But we are not having any guests this year -- we invited last year's group, but they already had plans, and I couldn't think of anyone else to ask. So it'll be a (much) quieter day, and less food is needed (only one pie). In addition, so that I can grade, the twins will be going to "school day off camps" on Monday and Tuesday. Every year is a little different.
I was looking back at my blog for last November, though, and was struck by how similar it all was. We had a big snowstorm in mid-November last year too. We all got sick around then, too, though I think (reading between the lines) it wasn't as bad as this year. It was oddly reassuring to read about all the same problems. No cat emergency, though -- hopefully that won't become a yearly occurrence!
I am not in a buoyant mood this year, but maybe that will improve. I am still coughing horribly and just don't feel like myself since the flu. Last week was really a terrible week -- several days of serious illness and then a desperate attempt to make up for the work I missed, which meant not getting enough sleep and not really giving myself a chance to heal. I so badly wanted someone to take care of me, but of course there is no such someone when you are a grown-up, especially when you are the mom. Rocket Boy covered for me for a few days -- that is, he played the role of both parents, but he couldn't take care of me, too -- and then he came down with it and I had to get up and cover for him. At one point, maybe Thursday, he got out of bed and staggered over to me (I was at the computer, frantically working). "What have you been taking for the pain?" he asked, sounding so pathetic. I knew what he meant, because in the worst couple of days I couldn't figure out what to take for the pain, either. "You can take Tylenol or Advil," I told him, "and if you want to knock yourself out you can take Tylenol PM or Advil PM." He nodded dully, and took a Tylenol. I felt bad -- I wanted to help him -- but I had to help my students too, and then there were the boos.
Boos, actually, were pretty good about being sick. I kind of like taking care of sick kids, because they're so sweet when they're ill -- even when they vomit in the middle of the night -- but I didn't have much time or energy for it this time. Kid B was home for three days, during which he mostly watched PBS Kids and slept. Kid A mostly fought it off, though at one point he looked terrible, big dark circles and very pale skin. He insisted on going to school anyway, and his teacher sent him right back home again, making me feel terribly guilty. When the boos were home together, they spent a lot of time playing trains in the hallway (which made it difficult for sick parents to go back and forth, but at least it entertained them -- the kids, not the parents). I remember when I used to have to build all the train tracks -- now my big boys can do it themselves.
Wishing someone would take care of me has got me in serious nostalgia mode -- what can I say, I want my mommy! I also very much want Clifford, our beloved, late-lamented, next-door neighbor, to make an appearance. Last week, on top of everything else, we really needed to finish shoveling the walks -- Rocket Boy had done it once during the big snow, but it needed to be done again so that the sidewalks could dry off in the warmer weather. But we had the flu! On Thursday and Friday, when I did go in to campus, I had to pick my way through the mess on our sidewalk and Clifford's, and I just WISHED Clifford would show up and shovel his walk! And also ours! Even in his 80s, he would do that if he thought we needed help. Friday afternoon we finally felt up to it and we shoveled.Of course I also wish Clifford were here to come to Thanksgiving dinner, and I'm remembering lots of previous Thanksgivings that we had with him. I want there to be a knock at the door on that day, and have it be him, just walked over from next door, neatly dressed in a freshly pressed flannel shirt and jeans, with some appropriate conversational topics at the ready.
My mother I mainly just want to be able to call. She was always wonderful at expressing sympathy over the phone, and that's really the main thing I want right now, or especially did want last week. I want to be able to call my mother and say "Oh, this happened, and then this happened, and I'm so tired and sick!" and she would say "Oh honey, I'm so sorry!" without any of the stuff most people say about pulling yourself together. Or if she did say that, she would say it in a very sweet and sympathetic way. And then we would have a good laugh. We never talked on the phone without laughing at something.
I don't see why dead people can't make phone calls like that. It doesn't seem like it would be so hard to arrange.
Oh well. Probably enough moping for one blog post. Onward into the week off.
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