Wednesday, September 9, 2009

My heart will go on

Do you know that scene in Titanic where the old couple climbs on their bed, fully dressed? They lie down, holding hands, and the room fills with water beneath them?

That's the scene that is often in my mind when I snuggle E when she's unwell. When she doesn't feel great she likes to hold hands as she falls asleep. At yesterday's nap she literally re-enacted the scene and as we held hands she let the room fill with water beneath us. Today she sought to achieve creative reinterpretation.

We fell asleep for naptime in my bed again, holding hands. We slept for some period of time until she woke me to tell me she was going to use the potty. Despite my repeated daily assurances that she need not wake me for such disclosures, she apparently believes it's inherent to the process. 1) Wake mommy to announce your full bladder. 2) Pull down your pants.

3) Wake mommy to fill the room beneath her with water. So I dozed in denial, hoping against any plausible hope that she'd use the potty and return to our nap. Instead, she called for me. She ran from the bathroom in the hall to my side of the bed, her pants around her ankles, drips running down her legs, and some strange sacrificial offering held aloft on an altar she raised above her head for my viewing.

I grabbed my glasses and forced myself to awaken quickly to understand her upset blubbering. The altar was the blue step stool she uses to reach the sink. The drips running down her leg were puddling on my carpet. The offering was a wet roll of toilet paper.

Somehow, in trying to wipe herself, she dislodged the toilet roll from the wall holder and dropped the entire thing in the potty -- and felt that she needed to show it to me.

I conceded defeat. We were both awake. She dropped the stool back in her bathroom and cleaned up in my bathroom, and then we went downstairs to continue our sick-day excitement.

Was this story worth reading? You could just re-read yesterday's post, delete the cleaning lady and the pediatrician, and it would be about accurate.

Dr. Coleman told us yesterday that this particular virus seems to be running about 3-5 days before the fever breaks and E seems determined to get her money's worth. My heart will go on, tomorrow - right back to work. It's her daddy's turn to spend a day or two getting whined at and peed on.

Get better soon, love. Please. Pin It