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Mar. 24th, 2009 09:32 pmIt's the end of the day, and they're both still alive. I have done my job.
I had planned to go in to work for an hour or two today, with Colin, to coordinate a new venture with my research assistants. But last night, we noticed that Alex was pale and overemotional, and her temperature read 99.6 degrees - just high enough to keep her out of school today. So I had them both home, and we stayed in the house all day.
She was pitiful when she woke up, then fine through the morning. In midafternoon her fever started to rise. She begged to watch the Charlotte's Web DVD she got for Christmas, which she'd never seen before, but about fifteen minutes in she started to sob when Fern is forced to sell Wilbur to the farm down the road. "Wilbur! Wilbur!" Alex cried, crumpling in a heap. I looked at her: genuine tears, pallid skin, red circles flushed into her cheeks. I reached for the thermometer, but I didn't really need technological evidence for her fever.
She remained miserable for the rest of the afternoon - "I'm huddled in a heap," she informed us disconsolately at the dinner table - and then got a bouncy second wind just when Michael and I were most exhausted.
Colin got rather shorted for attention, needless to say. He was pretty much continuously latched on, unless I was changing one of a series of truly astonishing diapers, but he didn't get much in the way of stimulating interaction or tender gazes. I figure that keeping his sister's germy hands off him was the best I could offer him. He chose to repay me by not napping for more than 15 minutes at a time all afternoon and into the evening.
Tomorrow should be a lot like today, except that we'll be having a new boiler installed at 9am sharp, plus the electric company will be reattaching the line to the house (don't ask) at 8am. To what extent will power and heat be disrupted? No one has told us to expect disruptions. I suppose that if necessary we can flee to the church for sanctuary... because our usual fallbacks, like the library or the science center, won't be open that early and, when they do open, will be full of kids who don't deserve Alex's virus.
I am exhausted. But it's the end of the day and they're both alive, so I have rocked my job.
I had planned to go in to work for an hour or two today, with Colin, to coordinate a new venture with my research assistants. But last night, we noticed that Alex was pale and overemotional, and her temperature read 99.6 degrees - just high enough to keep her out of school today. So I had them both home, and we stayed in the house all day.
She was pitiful when she woke up, then fine through the morning. In midafternoon her fever started to rise. She begged to watch the Charlotte's Web DVD she got for Christmas, which she'd never seen before, but about fifteen minutes in she started to sob when Fern is forced to sell Wilbur to the farm down the road. "Wilbur! Wilbur!" Alex cried, crumpling in a heap. I looked at her: genuine tears, pallid skin, red circles flushed into her cheeks. I reached for the thermometer, but I didn't really need technological evidence for her fever.
She remained miserable for the rest of the afternoon - "I'm huddled in a heap," she informed us disconsolately at the dinner table - and then got a bouncy second wind just when Michael and I were most exhausted.
Colin got rather shorted for attention, needless to say. He was pretty much continuously latched on, unless I was changing one of a series of truly astonishing diapers, but he didn't get much in the way of stimulating interaction or tender gazes. I figure that keeping his sister's germy hands off him was the best I could offer him. He chose to repay me by not napping for more than 15 minutes at a time all afternoon and into the evening.
Tomorrow should be a lot like today, except that we'll be having a new boiler installed at 9am sharp, plus the electric company will be reattaching the line to the house (don't ask) at 8am. To what extent will power and heat be disrupted? No one has told us to expect disruptions. I suppose that if necessary we can flee to the church for sanctuary... because our usual fallbacks, like the library or the science center, won't be open that early and, when they do open, will be full of kids who don't deserve Alex's virus.
I am exhausted. But it's the end of the day and they're both alive, so I have rocked my job.
