Sick = Freedom?

I think the Kelley family just experienced the craziest week since we moved to Colorado. It never sounds as bad when you say it out loud or start writing down your activities, but it just seems we're meeting ourselves coming and going lately, and on Friday, Taylor had apparently had enough.

I noticed Thursday he was acting weird, like in this picture when he crawled up in the chair next to Terry and promptly went to sleep right after lunch. He's not a cuddler or anything close, and he definitely prefers sleeping in his crib over just about anything else (except maybe the car seat). Imagine me trying to convince Aidan to go in and take a nap in her bed when Taylor was sound out on the chair--with Daddy, who was working from home that day. Anyway, that was really the only unusual thing that day, and when he woke up, it was time to leave again and go spend the evening having dinner at some friends' house. Go, go, go.

On Friday, though, I made pancakes for breakfast, something usually reserved for Saturdays, and he wouldn't take one bite. He crawled up to the dining room table and watched us as he sucked his thumb. I had an unusually large to-do list for Friday, and we were to go to more friends' house that night, and I was taking dinner for the 10 of us. Just as I got up to clean the kitchen and shower, Taylor started crying and asked me to hold him. We made our way over to the comfy chair because I thought he felt warm, and guess what? We didn't move from that chair until about 4 p.m. He wouldn't let me put him down. He slept off and on, cried, and oh yeah--vomited on me twice. I cancelled our dinner plans and just gave up for the day, making a conscious decision to put everything off "until tomorrow." There's a certain freedom in that, isn't there? When you can't control your situation, so you just let it go? That's what I did. We sat. We watched Sesame Street and Oswald and Dora. And about 8 others in between naps. I snoozed when he snoozed. Aidan fended for herself, pulling the chair over and getting her crayons off the top of the fridge (I don't know how and I don't think I want to), then turning the other direction to the pantry and getting snacks.

When Terry finally got home, I peeled Taylor off of me and gave him to Terry so I could finally shower. It wasn't but about five minutes later that Taylor threw up on Terry. He had to even it out, right? I resumed responsibility after my shower, almost admitting to myself that maybe one more day of this would relieve me of a number of duties that I wouldn't mind losing. Hmmmm...

Saturday dawned, and I expected the worst, especially when he refused his breakfast again. However, it only took him being awake for about five minutes for me to see the difference in him. Soon he was playing and laughing and screaming, and I realized my to-do list was back in session. I immediately felt tired thinking of that list, and my taste of freedom from the responsibilities of the list slipped away...