It is difficult to describe, with human words, anyway, what it’s like to be trapped in a house for six days with two kids, one of them sick.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I have left the house, breathed fresh air, sat in a vehicle, spoken face to face with other human beings, three times in six days.
THREE TIMES in SIX DAYS!
We were on our way home from a happy hour, err, play date last Friday night when I noticed Ellie had a really runny nose. A runny nose that transformed into a rock star of a cold, setting up permanent residence in her little sinuses.
The first couple of days weren’t that bad. Two of the three times I left the house were over the weekend, when we went out to brunch and then on Sunday out of sheer boredom drove up to the airport to watch the planes take off. It was fun until a cop without much of a sense of humor made us leave.
Even Monday was tolerable. It was just me and the girls and we hung out at home, catching up on my stories and eating frozen pizzas.
Tuesday started to get a little sketchy. I was able to recite all four the four Baby Einstein DVDs we had been rotating word for word but the house had never been cleaner.
Wednesday I regretted the day I was born. I knew every inch of the house and it knew me. I swear I heard voices coming out of the carpet begging me to take a shower. I hadn’t showered since Monday; there was no need. I’m pretty sure I had been hosting a small family of critters in my leg hair for the past week and quite frankly they were the most interesting thing I had going for me at this point.
I was completely trapped – I couldn’t take Ellie anywhere for fear of her spreading her germs to innocent bystanders. Also the look in her sick little eyes was one that required nothing but home lovin’ and an excessive amount of Baby Einstein.
At this point I had taken up residence in the window sill, stroking my beard while looking out the window begging God to let Nick’s car to pull into the driveway. Everyone I called could only talk for brief periods of time because of their “jobs”. Since when did I befriend such responsible losers?
Today, however, I was fortunate enough to have my mother-in-law watch the girls for a couple of hours while I went to the St. Louis Women in Media luncheon. As I backed out of the driveway, dusting the cob webs off my dashboard, I breathed new life. I rolled down my window and saw trees without the barrier of a glass window pane. I breathed air not circulated through our dusty vents. I ate from a buffet that did not serve peanut butter or goldfish crackers.
And it was glorious.
I guess what I’m saying is I may not make it. Please send Taco Bell.