A Day to Stay Inside

It is cold out: negative ten air temperature in Minnesota. There is nothing to do but stay inside, drink coffee and play dress up.

It’s been a tough month for our family. I am trying to get into the spirit of having sick days, and see the silver lining to all this time the girls and I are spending in doors, on the couch, reading books and watching movies. But the truth is, it’s been tough. It would be an understatement to say we’ve been sick for the last month. In fact, ever since Thanksgiving week when Ryan and I both got the stomach flu the day we were due to have our rental property inspected, our family has gone from one nasty virus to the next. Some weeks it seems Twila is only healthy long enough to go back to school and catch another bug.

The latest in our long saga of illness includes Twila being cultured for Strep twice and Jada throwing up for four days straight before shifting to a rather profound case of diarrhea. We thought she was done throwing up when we made the choice to bring her with us to Twila’s doctor’s appointment. She seemed her usual smiley self through the whole visit but was once again fussing and wining when we queued in the ordering line of a fast food burger joint.

Ryan had just passed her off to me so he could get his wallet out when the man behind me started pointing and making some repetitive unintelligible noise that sounded like: “Oh, uh, oh, oh, um…”

I looked behind me to see that Jada had vomited over my shoulder, down my back and all over the floor behind me. Ryan was like a deer in headlights as he tried to decide whether he should finish ordering our lunch or run.

“Can I have the keys? Hand me the keys please, may I have the keys NOW please?” I repeated through gritted teeth. Finally my requests reached the message center in Ryan’s brain and he retrieved the keys and handed them to me. I beat it out the door and paced by the car deciding that a little fresh air might be better for both of us.

Ryan must still have been in shock when he poked his head out of the door and asked if we were eating there or if we should take our food to go.

A kindly manager assured Ryan and Twila that he would take care of the mess. I hope that we didn’t lose them too much business that day because we were at the very front of the line at the peak of the lunch rush. It’s the kind of thing I would have complained about if I was behind such a nasty display. I would tell my friends for months to come and probably never go back that restaurant. As it is I will probably never go back to that restaurant either, out of shame and guilt.

It is the ever-unanswerable question that mothers face: do we stay home or go out? When flu season is upon us, it seems every day could be justified as a sick day. Is there a day that doesn’t begin with coughing and sneezing and the complaint of a sore throat? Not in our house this winter. It has been a season of illness and exhaustion.

I cling to those moments of fun, of humor, of energy, and joy because they are sparse, sparse, sparse, this winter. On Super Bowl Sunday we had dinner at a friend’s house while Twila and Jada ran around with three other kids. Everyone felt good (amazingly) and the kids were having a blast. I held this scene in my heart (paying more attention to the group of children than to the football game) because it was the first time I had really seen Jada get into a group and really play. She screeched with the best of them and ran back and forth with the herd. It was beautiful.

I drove the girls home at half time, hoping they would both fall soundly asleep in their cozy jammies that I thought to bring and change them in to, all nestled up with blankets in their car seats. They didn’t. But after quick tooth brushing, we climbed into the big queen guest bed all together and put on the little turtle night light that projects colorful stars all over the ceiling. And with both girls lying on my chest, I sang songs from our music class.

For a while they tossed and turned and poked each other in the face and cracked up which was charming even though it did not advance the “sleep ball.” Then without warning, in mid thrash and flip, they were both asleep, small heads resting on either side of my chin, breath coming in slow, deep sighs, their combined weight pinning me to the bed.

I slithered out from underneath their heavy, sleeping bodies and I turned around to crouch on my heels and watch them sleep for a while. They looked absolutely peaceful and darling, as if neither one was capable of a scream, a whine or a peep.

The sight of my children sleeping is perhaps more precious to me right now because of how disturbed our sleep has been by sickness the last month. From Twila throwing up all night with Ryan to Jada throwing up all night with me to me throwing up all night to Twila being up with the chills of a high fever to Ryan being up with fever chills and body aches. Each night as the sun goes down it is anyone’s guess if we will make it through the night sleeping, or if we will even get any rest at all.

So I just sat enjoying the absolute peace of their sleep for a long time. Then I turned off the turtle star lamp, tucked their blankets around them and crept out.

As the days have continued to be hectic and intense with short tempers and stir-crazy kids screeching for assistance and attention, I have continued to hold that scene in my mind. Even now as the floor is covered with scattered dry cereal, stuffed animals, books and puzzle pieces from a morning’s worth of indoor entertainment, I can channel that fleeting sense of total calm from watching my children sleep soundly.

And now it’s another freezing day on the arctic tundra of Minnesota. We hope for a reprieve from the rash of viruses so we can go to an indoor playground or swimming pool; so I can go back to the gym and so Twila doesn’t have to miss anymore school. And we hope for spring so we can go back outside, play in the dirt and stick our toes in the lake, smell the fresh scent of grass and flowers and leaves and mud. But its two months away no matter how you slice it. Maybe today we’ll make Oobleck (from Dr Seuss’s classic) and watch the snowmobiles fly across the frozen lake, waiting for the temperature to come above zero.