Ill-Fated Re-Entry
Like some kind of sickly pale debutante, I had a coming-out today, presenting myself to the world at large for the first time since Wednesday noon. OK, so it wasn't the world at large; it was patrons of the Neenah Public Library and the Darboy Target, which, on a Saturday, fairly accurately represent the world at large. These were busy places, and, as my body is telling me now, I was not yet ready for busy.
When we first struck out, it seemed like the perfect day to emerge from a half-week's hibernation. The sun shone warm from a blue sky, the daffodil buds hung on their stalks like slender yellow fish, the hyacinths closest to the house had burst open like colored bits of popcorn on a cob, and everything shouted Fresh! New! Healthy!
Everything, that is, except my lungs, which remain constricted as though encased in the control-top portion of too-small pantyhose. But I wanted to get out, I NEEDED to get out, so get out I did.
We got the things we needed--laundry detergent, glass cleaner, cough drops--and a few things we wanted--camouflage shorts for the big boy, My Little Pony panties for the little (not even close to potty-trained) girl, and a fetching shade of eye shadow in a nifty squeezable tube for me. When we checked out, the cashier handed me the cough drops rather than putting them in the bag, like she might do with a Snickers bar. 'I can tell you'll want to enjoy these now,' her expression said.
When we returned home, it was Strandberg Video Theater until naptime for the young one. Once she was down, I sat on the porch watching the elder ride his bike for a short while. When he asked if he could watch a video instead, I was all too happy to oblige.
Late in the afternoon, when we were all awake again, I sat in the living room folding laundry while the kids played 'rescue' and 'tightrope walker.' At one point, they were both making what struck my congested ears as rather shrill statements, and they simultaneously ended their mama-directed monologues with, "Ya wanna know WHY?"
"Why?" I said in no particular direction and with no notion of either topic.
In perfect stereo, I heard this response:
"Because BLAH BLAH BLAH..." "Because BLAH BLAH BLAH..."
That's when it occurred to me that, even if they were perfect angels while I was sick and just watched videos or read quietly most of the day, they'd still want to talk to me. And all that talking and listening takes a TREMENDOUS amount of energy. And they will take every drop of energy you offer--and even the ones you don't.
That's why they each went to bed promptly at 7:30 PM tonight with a stack of books. Whether or not they were ready to sleep, their mama was.
When we first struck out, it seemed like the perfect day to emerge from a half-week's hibernation. The sun shone warm from a blue sky, the daffodil buds hung on their stalks like slender yellow fish, the hyacinths closest to the house had burst open like colored bits of popcorn on a cob, and everything shouted Fresh! New! Healthy!
Everything, that is, except my lungs, which remain constricted as though encased in the control-top portion of too-small pantyhose. But I wanted to get out, I NEEDED to get out, so get out I did.
We got the things we needed--laundry detergent, glass cleaner, cough drops--and a few things we wanted--camouflage shorts for the big boy, My Little Pony panties for the little (not even close to potty-trained) girl, and a fetching shade of eye shadow in a nifty squeezable tube for me. When we checked out, the cashier handed me the cough drops rather than putting them in the bag, like she might do with a Snickers bar. 'I can tell you'll want to enjoy these now,' her expression said.
When we returned home, it was Strandberg Video Theater until naptime for the young one. Once she was down, I sat on the porch watching the elder ride his bike for a short while. When he asked if he could watch a video instead, I was all too happy to oblige.
Late in the afternoon, when we were all awake again, I sat in the living room folding laundry while the kids played 'rescue' and 'tightrope walker.' At one point, they were both making what struck my congested ears as rather shrill statements, and they simultaneously ended their mama-directed monologues with, "Ya wanna know WHY?"
"Why?" I said in no particular direction and with no notion of either topic.
In perfect stereo, I heard this response:
"Because BLAH BLAH BLAH..." "Because BLAH BLAH BLAH..."
That's when it occurred to me that, even if they were perfect angels while I was sick and just watched videos or read quietly most of the day, they'd still want to talk to me. And all that talking and listening takes a TREMENDOUS amount of energy. And they will take every drop of energy you offer--and even the ones you don't.
That's why they each went to bed promptly at 7:30 PM tonight with a stack of books. Whether or not they were ready to sleep, their mama was.
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 7:45 PM
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