Chicken Littles

 

New favorites: Richard and Patricia Scarry

     I have a rare moment of peace and quiet as Rosy soaks in the bathtub, and I'm hoping she'll stay true to form and be in there a loooooong time. I find this quality so endearing for some reason, maybe because I can hold out in the tub for all of about three minutes. By the time the tub fills up I'm ready to get out. The ''other two'' are in church, and Rosy is home with me with a face full of chicken pox. A face, a back, a neck, between her toes, in her ears, scalp, they. are. everywhere. Lily had it (them?) before her and as Murphy's Law dictates, it had to run its full course before Rosy's spots revealed themselves, which was literally the evening before we were going to send Lily back to pre-school. So, a full month quarantined at home for me (and Rosy too since she had to stay home when Lily had it too), and teaching on top of it. But you know what, aside from the hectic-ness of having to coordinate pick-ups and drop-offs and who's gonna watch whom when I'm where and how can I keep the TV usage to a minimum? and do we have any food in the house? stuff, there have been many things to be thankful for. Just when I was internally whining about having to dry out the Barbies so they don't mold and clean out the tub and the nylon full of ground oatmeal again, it hit me right between the eyes, we have a tub. And hot water. And I get to bathe my babies as often as their itchiness dictates because of these things. Thank You, Lord. And for all the times I feel like I'm gonna darn-near lose my mind if I'm asked for one more stinkin' thing, there are equally, no, more than, as many times of love lavished on me through drawings and kisses and proclamations of Mama, you are the squishiest, softest Mama s. (haha). And although I feel like this time has brought out the absolute worst in me, in many ways I feel like I've gotten to witness the best in them. Lily didn't have terribly many spots, but she had them in her eye, on her tongue, on her gums and other highly unpleasant places. And her fever/weakness/not-herself phase lasted a full three days and she suffered it just as sweetly as you could imagine. And during that time Rosy kept announcing that she was gonna take care of Lily. And she would sit with her outside the bath and do silly things she thought were nursely. And although, on the third day, Rosy awoke with a thousand spots scattered all over her little body, she busted through the fever phase in a day. Well, actually she had a fever for two or so, but you wouldn't have known it but for the first day. She was so cheery and playful and funny. I had been worried about how Rosy would handle this illness because for every ounce of bravery and selflessness and absence-of-whinery that Lily exudes in the midst of pain and illness and suffering, Rosy takes that and raises it 100-fold with whining and self-pity and want of special treatment. And although I have not been wrong about that, (she has declared herself ''the chooser, because I-I-I-I'm sick'' and whenever there is any choice to be made, she gives herself full advantage.) I have to say, I have been pleasantly surprised at how well she is dealing with it all.
  Well, she's out of the tub now, rendering it next-to-impossible to continue writing, so I'll leave you with three things that made me smile and some pictures of the last while...

1. I find it a little tough to extend my sympathy (and not laugh) whenever Rosy exclaims, ''She bonked my chicken pock!''

2. Tomáš: Lily, do you promise?
     Lily: Yes I promise.
     Me: What do you promise?
     Lily: Not to call Rosy Chicken pock face. (hehe)

3. Lily tasted Tomáš' beer foam and then said, ''I hope I don't grow a beer-d over night.''

Maxin' and relaxin' 

Football with her daddy