Momnesia

Taking a Sick Day

Emmie is sick. Sort of. She has that rotavirus thing that everyone has been passing around. She's been pooping like a dysentery patient since two days before Christmas. But despite the fact that she hasn't eaten a full meal in almost a week and has the worst diaper rash I've ever seen on her (hey, look, there's only so much that changing diapers, applying ointment and taking frequent baths can do, okay?! I'm not a neglectful mother!), it hasn't slowed her down much between bowel movements.

At the moment, she is busy decorating our heads with various ribbons and bows from her vast collection of hair ornaments.

"Here, mama," she says, handing me a purple polka-dotted headband, sporting a matching pink one of her own.

"Thank you, sweetie," I say, slipping it on between typing stories. I'm supposed to be "working from home," but it's more like "laundry-doctor-dishes-e-mailing-and-telephone-calling from home." I have lots of notes, and I'm making progress on contacting people for interviews, but there's not as much written as there would have been at the office. I have managed to turn in two short pieces.

People are very very nice when you say you're working from home because your toddler is sick. They laugh off the kind of things that would offend them coming from the Metro Spirit office.

"Loot! I shate my booootie!" Emmie scream-sings. And the gentleman on the other end of the line just laughs.
"She's training for the convent," I say, dryly, watching her slip a blue polka0dotted headband onto Scott's head. I snicker at the sight. "You have no idea how wild those nuns can get behind cloistered doors. But anyway, tell me about your upcoming film series..."

Emmie brings me a bow to match the headband, and asks me to put one in her hair.

"Der!" she exclaims. "Now we de same! Mama hasa bow an' Emmie hasa bow!"
"That's very nice, sweetheart," I whisper, trying to appease her and listen to the artist at the same time. Oh, and type. Really, I need three heads and six arms to do all this.

Emmie takes a blue bow to Scott, who sighs heavily.
"Just put it on!" I hiss. I don't want her freaking out because she didn't get her way over something stupid. I'm having a hard enough time as it is.

"Fine," Scott says, as though the mere thought makes his penis shrink three inches. He slips the bow onto the front of his head and snaps it tight, next to the bright blue headband already ensconced in his red hair. "But if she brings me Dora panties, I'm drawing the line."