The House of Sick

Meningitis.

Was told by mom's doctor to watch her and get her to the hospital if anything changes because "she could die." Was not happy with this. Even though her doctor is tiny and cute and I wanted to knock her over and steal her fancy shoes.

Changed ice packs, picked up prescriptions, administered pills, refilled water bottles, and found myself with hours of quiet time to knit on the couch or lay in bed alone late into the night reading. Felt like the old me. Put on a baggy old tee shirt and took off my jeans to complete the effect.

Boob turned into a potato. Breast pump insisted it was doing its best.

The man arranged to fly in on Saturday. I experienced a confused mix of excitement and disappointment. Filled my arms with kissing boys and put jeans back on.

Cleaned the bathrooms, sneaking four garbage bags out behind the house. Said "it had a hole in it!" every time she asked about missing soap slivers/old toothbrushes/that hairspray in the rusted can that we can't use because we're allergic.

Mom started to feel better, as indicated by the fact that I went upstairs and found her disassembling her air cleaner instead of resting. Secured her recovery with a load of Thai food from the restaurant with the old lady who predicted I'd go into labor when I sent my mom for saté sticks.

Went to Target. The man became stressed by city traffic, tried to run 4 people off the road.

While cleaning the kitchen, discovered a cupboard of miscellaneous liquor that was still good. Also a cursed 7 year-old bottle of cheap champagne from our wedding. And a pack of pre-cooked bacon I bought during the divorce, disturbingly normal-looking.

Got a cold. Leif showed his sympathy by sneezing snot down my shirt. Then made Cute Face (exaggerated blinking with tongue between teeth). Forgiven.

I asked him to do it for the camera, and this is what happened:

I threatened to take them to the Sears portrait studio for a babies-rolling-pointlessly-in-flowers photo shoot. Preview of how that would go:

Tomorrow we fly home. My mother is expending all of her new energy in the cheesecake section of Costco. I know she'll be safe now.

Was all of this the sign I was waiting for that it is time to make the move back? Perhaps.