For a few minutes yesterday AM H.o.p. woke up saying he was sick, something about his chest hurting etc. and fell back to sleep. Marty was worried. But on Saturday at acting class the regular teacher wasn’t there as she was sick and I’ve heard a lot about “sick” going around and I figured that H.o.p. was getting a cold (hopefully, and not the flu) and this was the first vague symptom (like his mom, irrelevance comes naturally to him)…plus his conking back out for hours was a good clue that the little boy wasn’t up to par. What it meant though was we didn’t make the couple hour drive to Marty’s mother’s for her birthday and that H.o.p.’s Uncle David went on alone. And H.o.p. stayed conked out and stayed conked out and stayed conked out and then was suddenly up and feeling quite good and then was quickly conked out again and then was up and bright again and then was conked out again.
And now here I sit in my red, black and white cotton penguin jammies (not plush though) with a Tazmanian Devil cup of Throat Coat with honey and a big roll of white toilet tissue (have a 6 pack so don’t have to worry about running out) from which I keep peeling sheets, whittling it down quickly, blowing mountains of goo out of my head (believe me, this is not unexpected, after the way I was feeling and sounding earlier today) and H.o.p. is feeling better than he was yesterday in that the cold has now focused itself where it belongs, in his head, and he has been in baby bear fashion helping momma bear whittle down the toilet paper roll not quite twice as fast as his head cold is thankfully not as gooey, but is made up for with dramatics such as when he qoke up today with a plaintive wail of, “Help me!” followed by, “I want Tylenol!”
“I’m having sinus problems!” he complained.
“You’ve got a cold,” I said.
“Oh.” Toilet tissue jammed up his nose. “It’s my allergies,” he said, resistant. He hates allergies (he’s got them, like his mom) but he’ll take them any day of the week over a cold.
Yes, the observant note that H.o.p. has toilet tissues as well, whereas I’m making do with toilet paper that’s not newsprint ready but will still leave me with a roughened nose eventually. That’s because…well, I don’t know why. But H.o.p.’s got the few remaining, coveted sheets because I’m too lazy to go over and bully him over it and take them from him.
He could tell earlier today I was getting sick too. Mom not being able to speak was a good indication. Because I couldn’t speak he did sign language for “I love you” hoping that it would make me feel better. Because I couldn’t speak and he was feeling better than I was, what this mainly meant to H.o.p. was that we did no spelling or math or anything else today, and we will likely not be tomorrow, and he was smart enough to hide his pleasure over this behind sympathy and hugs. As he told his dad, “I don’t want to make her feel any worse.”
Now I’m trying to figure out what medicine I want with this cold. Like I have any choices sitting around in my cabinets. I thought I did have some Tylenol Cold medicine but can’t find it. I may have thrown it out since anything that is Tylenol and for sinus or cold and is a white caplet makes me ill. The yellow caplets are fine but the white ones upset my stomach. Oh, wait, here I have two white caplets of Tylenol cold medicine left over from last year which escaped being thrown away. Good, I will now take them and risk the upset stomach.
OK, so I took the Tylenol cold caplets that on better days have a gag-me saccharine bite to them that reminds actually a good deal of why I resort to Throat Coat as a last resort as well, and I remember distinctly now how I felt the last time I took this stuff, like someone was thrusting fizzy balloons up my sinuses and calling it delightful and head-clearing and soothing when in fact it’s discombobulating hell that has the rest of my unsettled body wondering where went my head and unable to interpret the world and how to act without it…AHCHOO…excuse me, so sorry, while I discharge another 30 pounds of goo. Then I burp, because this stuff makes me burp. “Poor you,” H.o.p. says.
Update: It’s later and I’m drowning my sorrows in a bar of dark chocolate. AHCHOO! More tissue. More chocolate. This is our first bonafide major snotty cold of the season and I’m actually pretty pleased about that.
What music did H.o.p. choose for the day? Arvo Part’s “Miserere”. He does have a broad range of tastes, that kid does.
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