beaten by circumstances

«One minute early, one minute late; this is what we’re calling fate…» Well, fate has it in for me, these days: Timing on events in life is really bad and the extent of them are even worse: I mean: recently I feel I have been tested undeservedly harshly and really, really bad! (Just can’t stress that enough!)

Last week I stayed at home with sick kids, both Tuesday and Wednesday… Little did I know it was only the beginning of a really bad week.

Thursday night, after a rather successful day with nothing going wrong, and kids up and running, my son stepped on a broken mug and got a splinter of porcelain stuck in his heel. I had to take him to the emergency clinic to cut it out.

A splinter like that is very painful, I know, but knowing my son I made an effort to act and appear rather brusque. Not the best behavior in a mum with a son in severe pain. The doctor looked at me with disbelief as I showed little compassion when he was to set the anaesthetization.

He looked at me and nodded after having done the deed: My son is a very dramatic kid. I am not talking about sulking and moaning: I am talking full protest, colorful phrasing (I am proud he does not swear, but he knows a lot of descriptive expressions and clichés!) and a very descriptive body language. The young, tall, dark, handsome, tired and very skilled doctor had to hide his giggle, as it was very entertaining. I have to extol his proficiency: If he had not read the situation right, we could have ended up experiencing real commotion. And believe me: I have had my moments at the checkout counter in the grocery store, where all the candy is displayed for kids to see and within their reach. (These days, when I see mums and dads in distress as they try to handle their kid’s tantrum, I smile and tell them I am just grateful it isn’t my turn today. They seem to relax when they understand it’s  common thing, and not them who are bad parents.)

All in all it went well, in spite of me dreading, in advance, what lay ahead when I got the kid in the car and drove off towards the clinic: I know my son.

I didn’t tell him the doctor had to cut the splinter out with a scalpel, not until the day after; he thought the doctor just pulled it out with tweezers… to conceal what was going on with his heel was a choice of convenience, on my part.

Anyway: Friday, both my younger kids had a really high temperature, again, and stayed in bed most of the day. For a 6-year old and a 12-year old kid to stay in bed they have to feel really poorly. Suddenly the house was in order for an entire day (every night, before I go to bed, I tidy up around the house, find and gather the socks discarded during the day, put toys back in place, load and start the dishwasher… in order to not get up in the morning and just feel overwhelmed, I need to know I face a shameless house in the morning), no cartoons on TV, no laptop noises: The house felt just strange. Empty almost.

Friday night the vomiting started and through the night I changed beds and offered drinks (always a challenge to make sure they drink enough, especially when they have both a temperature and nausea) and made them take a pill so ease their unwell condition. Didn’t get a lot of sleep myself… (Not that I sleep for too long anyway, but I need my three hours!)

Saturday morning they started to get better, at least they could keep water down, and from then on they got better.

Sunday morning they felt great! And the turmoil which appears in their presence was again established in the house.

I felt sick.

Usually I don’t get what the kids have. I am normally quite resistant to all the tummy bugs, but not this time. I am still a bit shocked over how sorry I felt for myself. My entire body ached so bad; even my eyeballs hurt.

But the kids were fine. I tried very hard to be grateful for that. Their friends (who came over earlier than usual (there is a “rule” no one comes over before 10am on Sundays) because their parents were feeling a bit off, were in full activity, and I tried very hard not to wish they were sick and at home. When they talked it felt as if they were shouting, and the boisterousness made my ears sweat.

Some days are just best forgotten about, and Sunday is one of them, though I have to admit most of it I just remember in a haze of vague memories… like how my dog showed so much elation, when I finally had the energy to move a little, in bed, I seriously had to consider whether to take him for a walk or plan to embrace myself and clean up the mess. I ended up just letting him out in the garden. I know I prepared meals, but only because the kids were nagging about it: they were sick of cereals, and I vaguely remembered they had been sick as well, and needed the nutrition.

I felt thoroughly sorry for myself. I might have shed a couple of tears, but my eyes were watering from hurt and high temperature anyway, so I can’t be quite sure.

I suppose this Sunday taught me to be grateful for my (in general) good health, but it will take some time for me to forgive Universe for hitting that hard.