Is it possible to write about illness without grossing you out completely? We shall see.
I am settling into a good sleep when I hear feet stumbling up the stairs. The door swings open. My beloved child informs us he has become ill. I groan and roll over, hoping for a second this is a bad dream. It is not.
Well past midnight, Jason and I head downstairs to his room and do our best to clean. Unfortunately for us, the carpet shampooer we owned broke a couple years ago and we had yet to replace it. After thoroughly cleaning as best as possible and scrubbing my hands raw afterwards, I place a pickup order for a carpet shampooer (also add to cart extra paper towels, Clorox wipes, electrolyte powder, and crackers, because this is going to be a doozy). The order cannot be ready soon enough.
“I love you no matter where you get sick”, I tell each of my children, “but, if you can get all your mess in a bowl or toilet, I’ll give you $5”. Their eyes light up and through pale, tired faces, they are excited at the prospect of profiting off the virus wreaking havoc inside of them. I’m excited at the prospect of not having to get the brand new carpet shampooer back out for a mere $20.
A few nights later, another midnight call rudely awakens us. We head into the bedroom and hold our breath. I quickly crack the window, say a prayer of gratitude for this unseasonably warm winter, grab all the usual supplies, and get to work. Jason fetches and prepares the carpet shampooer.
Exhausted, I hold a trash bag loosely in my hand and slump into the wall. I watch as Jason carefully shampoos the rug, attaches the upholstery accessory, and cleans every inch of contamination with thorough scrubbing and hot, chemically water.
I love Taylor Swift - I still remember buying her first album with my hard-earned babysitting cash at Target. I feel the same as many women in my generation - I’ve grown up alongside her. I sang along to her music in high school, as a newlywed, and driving around southern California while my husband was deployed; I have wiped tears out of my eyes listening to “Never Grow Up” while shampooing little baby heads in the bath tub. I pretend the spoon is a microphone and sing to my kids loudly and off-key about how I can still make the whole room shimmer. Even Richie from the Bear gets it.
But I have to say, she knows nothing of love.
Get yourself a guy who will shampoo carpet for the umpteenth time with you at midnight. A guy that, when the virus finally comes for you, will answer the text of “Can you please bring me warm, fuzzy socks” in a heartbeat.
That’s true love.
speaking of Taylor Swift, this is my “dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light” inspired photo. This would be an adorable prompt to try with your partner, or children.
Currently, I’m reading The Supper of the Lamb and I have to force myself to slow down so I can really savor every part. I’ll give you this nugget, and I dare you not to add it to your cart/library holds:
“Man invented cooking before he thought of nutrition. To be sure, food keeps us alive, but that is only its smallest and most temporary work. Its eternal purpose is to furnish our sensibilities against the day when we shall sit down at the heavenly banquet and see how gracious the Lord is. Nourishment is necessary only for a while; what we need forever is taste.” - Robert Farrar Capon, The Supper of the Lamb
I’m currently avoiding making decisions around my kids’ summer activities (why are there so many, and why is it so expensive?) by making sourdough bread. 10/10 recommend.
Life lately in images, and another quote from Supper of the Lamb:
“Things are precious before they are contributory.”
Things I used to not see as precious: January, bad lighting, and that our dinnertime didn’t seem pretty enough/good enough. I didn’t see them as contributing value, because I didn’t acknowledge how precious they all are.
The moments in the house together, the deep shadows that linger, the handwritten place settings on disposable napkins - they are precious to me now, and their public confession is these photos. Taste and see.
Loved reading this!
I loved reading this…getting a peek into your heart and family life, and hearing your voice in your writing. Also *adds book to TBR list*