"Wanna' smell my armpit?" -- Edie
So Monday Edie and I went to the pumpkin patch with our new friends, Joy and Reagan. Reagan is Edie’s best friend (besides me, of course). According to their teacher, the two girls are inseparable at school, and when Edie comes home, the first report of the day is always whether or not Reagan was at school that day.
One day last year while in the office, a mother standing nearby overheard me mention that I was Edie’s mother, and on the way out, she stopped me and said, “YOU’RE Edie’s mother?! I’m Reagan’s mother!” and instantly, I knew the connection she was making. It was as if in those six words she was saying, “My kid talks about your kid ALL the time, and I really want to make sure you guys aren’t weirdoes because we have to get them together!”
I really enjoy watching the girls play. Edie definitely has a special bond with this little girl unlike any other child she has played with, and Reagan is so sweet. In fact on the way home, I was explaining to Joy that it really is rare for me to feel like Edie is the bad influence when she is playing with another kid.
Joy was sweet and pretended like Edie hadn’t spent the day whining at me or belching during lunch. She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Edie isn’t a bad influence!”
As if on cue, I look back in the backseat to see Edie lifting both of her arms up over her head. She turns to Reagan and says, “You want to smell my arm pits?” and then erupts into giggles. I, in turn, say to Joy, “THAT is exactly what I am talking about!”
There are very few things I hate more in this world than stomach viruses. However, there IS one thing that can top the misery of a plain stomach virus and that is one while you’re on vacation.
Our last night at the beach, Edie woke me up around 2:00 a.m. crying in her bed. I immediately knew what had happened from the smell that filled our room. I said a quick “thank you” to God that we weren’t sharing a bed, and then went running to the bathroom for towels.
I’m always surprised how well I handle her throwing up, and if I can name only one example of my “motherly” instincts kicking in, it is in these circumstances. In the moment, you know it’s totally gross and by all logic you should be gagging right along with your kid, but that all gets forgotten because your top concern is consoling the child who doesn’t understand what is happening-or in this case, keeps happening.
The rest of the night was spent waking every half hour or so for her to puke into another towel, console her, and put her back to bed. It was a very long night for all of us, including my mother, but man, was I glad she was there. Her “motherly” instincts were kicking in too by washing towels and linens, leaving me free to cuddle the patient.
The drive home was pretty miserable having had no sleep and Edie still not finished puking up everything but her toenails, but we were women without a country, or in this case, a condo, so there was nothing left to do but get in the car and drive home.
It took her about forty-eight hours to fully recover, which really was perfect timing because that was when she decided to pass the baton on to me. I have yet to really shake it completely.
This past week has been the pits, or as Edie likes to call it, the “arm pits”. She actually thinks that’s what this horrible virus is called. I, however, have another name for it, and it’s not near as cute.
