in sickness and in health

First of all, I have to send out a big HEE! to friends Schuyler and Ryan. After a rousing game of Candyland with Dumbo and Lizzy (Dumbo kicked our heinies), I needed it.

Lizzy, despite appearing perfectly feisty and healthy about 99.5 percent of the time, continues to stay home this week with one of her sick leave-impaired parents because she can't seem to keep her meals, er, down. It's strange. Matt, for reasons not clear to me, will feed our "sick" child a breakfast of eggs, cheese, bacon and pancakes, which she seems to do fine with. But when I get home and express horror and insist that she have something milder -- say, a banana -- up it comes an hour later. And we (Matt and I) look at each other, and one of us says, "I suppose we can't very well take her to day care tomorrow, right?", and then we play rock/paper/scissors for the right to go to work the next day. (joking. it's a slightly more scientific method than that.)

I should say that I love spending time with my daughter -- I really do. Although it is no barrel of monkeys -- hm, actually, that is very much what it is like -- to stay home with her all day, I do fantasize about being able to do so full-time, at least for a few years. We're going to hit a sticky spot when she goes to elementary school and has summers off ... what to do, what to do with her all day. By then, I also hope to have another wee 'un, so maybe we can work something out? It depends, it depends. For now, I alternately feel mournful and grateful about still being a member of the Work Force. The job's cool, the commute -- and not seeing my daughter as much as I'd like -- sucks.

So, hats off to all you stay-at-home moms. Today I appreciate what you do more than ever!

On a positive note, Lizzy's gotten really good at aiming for an ever-present bath towel when she has to yak. Thank you, child. Because after washing her sheets and my sheets twice in three days, I'd rather do towels.

And, thank God for an understanding boss.

Lizzy's running out of princess stickers to affix to Matt's typing paper, so I'll save my "list of jobs I've ever had" for later. It's not so long, because, like Schuyler, I had parents who refused to let me work while in high school. NOT THAT I MINDED. It kind of put them in a bad spot, because they had to pay for my desperate perm attempts at Amy Grant hair (yes, it was the late '80s); the many varieties of athletic footwear that my coaches said I had to replace each year (I think I averaged about every other year, actually); my clothes; etc. Come to think of it, my musical tastes (or lack thereof) in high school can be explained by the fact that my mom would buy me Christian tapes (yes, tapes -- I'm OLD, remember?) for free from the Christian bookstore where she worked. I later became a big Michael Jackson, George Michael, Madonna, Tears for Fears, etc., fan, but it took the influence of my college roommate. (Interestingly, I've only ever been a moderate U2 fan. I know -- heresy!! I like them -- I do -- but I don't passionately LURVE them. I very much welcome explanations as to why they're the second coming. I would love to get it. Right now, it's like a 3-D puzzle that I can't see, but I want to share in the rapture I see other people experiencing.)
Hm, rambling. And Lizzy says she's hungry ... Uh-oh.