It is spring in our kitchen! (Real spring to follow everywhere else 2-3 months.)
Zach was more or less awake for the day at 5:30 this morning, and I would like to go on record as saying I do not approve of this at all, especially not in February when it is still pitch black outside. Mike sent me back to bed after I finished nursing the baby, and I think I fell asleep for a few more minutes, which it turns out is precisely long enough to dream that I was standing in my parents’ kitchen, forced to defend myself against an intruder while armed with only an orange. (It was quite a large orange but still mostly ineffective.)
Today feels sort of Mondayish, and I’m also cataloguing my latest cold symptoms as part of a game I’ve become discouragingly proficient at this winter: Sick STILL or Sick AGAIN? Perhaps I can somehow market this idea (turn it into an app? a board game? a wildy popular reality show?) and make enough money to winter somewhere warm. (I have always wanted to be the sort of person who used “winter” as a verb.) I assume I will need a venture capitalist for this plan. Does anyone know one?
Ordinarily I would medicate this sort of day with cookies or some other delicious morale-boosting substance, but Zach seems to have a dairy intolerance so I have sworn off dairy for the time being in order to reduce both his misery and the number of loads of laundry I have to do each day, so instead I ate a bowl of Shredded Wheat with a milk substitute on top and … it is not the same as cookies. But both the children are currently napping, and I have a warm blanket and a cup of coffee (caffeinated! soothing on a sore throat!) and uploading that tulip photo above reminded me we planted tulip bulbs outside last summer but I don’t remember where we put them or which colours we picked so I have surprise spring flowers to look forward to eventually and it is several days closer to the weekend than if it were ACTUALLY Monday, so perhaps morale will improve without the cookies if I keep reminding myself of those facts.
I was thinking about Groundhog Day the other day, partially because it was Groundhog Day (the day) and partially because it has started to feel like Groundhog Day (the movie) around here, where I’m living the same day in a repetitive loop, performing the same tasks over and over. Feed the baby, change the baby, marvel at the baby’s delightfully chubby thighs (are they somehow even chubbier than last time I looked?), do another load of laundry. Such is life with a baby, I suppose, and the fact that Ellie has been insisting on wearing the same purple dress every morning and the same polka dot pajamas every night really only adds to the effect.
This winter has been really terrible, don’t you think? Cabin fever is at an all-time high around here, although I recently heard that referred to as feeling “shack wacky” and that adds an element of fun to the whole idea, as though it’s almost enjoyable to go slowly out of one’s mind while the snowdrifts pile up several feet higher than one can safely see past as one backs out of the driveway. If one were actually leaving the house with any regularity, which as we have previously established, one is not. This hasn’t stopped me from getting sick again, although as Mike reminds me every time this happens, that is apparently not how germs work. (Staying inside is how viruses spread! Close contact! Dry air! Science! Etc.!) I seem to recall I was sick an awful lot the winter after Ellie was born, so I imagine I’m just a little run down, and also I suppose I have the sub-par immune system of someone who has worked from home for several years. Also children are so very germy. Ellie is starting with a new sitter next week, and although it is only two days a week, I’m a little afraid I’ll be here again in a month bemoaning the pestilence this decision hath wrought.
I typed most of this one-handed on my phone yesterday while a baby who was awake half a dozen times the previous night slept on my chest. Things look a bit brighter today, but I am starting a petition to outlaw all sleep regressions until such a time as all members of the household are healthy. I will also be instituting a new sickness prevention policy: no one leaves the house ever. We can renegotiate in the spring, which will be soon, if Wiarton Willie is to be believed (which he is not, because he is a groundhog), although frankly the whole concept seems a little shaky to me, even if you set aside the whole Rodent Weather Prediction Service side of things. If I’m understanding correctly, the WORST outcome of the day is six more weeks of winter. I would pay cash money (stacks and stacks and STACKS of it) for winter to be over in the middle of March, even just for one year.