Whiney Whine, Wine

I tried oh so hard today to come up with something amusing, thoughtful, or really anything non-whiney to write about. But we ended up stuck in the house for yet another day (count them, there have been ten now) so whines are all I’ve got. And really, I’m not trying to win anything over at Phantom’s.

“Why,” you ask “are you still in the house? I thought the fever broke?” Well, A’s fever may be gone, but she has now developed a “viral rash.” Apparently the nasty little bug isn’t quite done with us yet. As a result, here we sat. Again. Alone. By ourselves. Not even a glimpse of the mailman.

To occupy ourselves we spent a lot of time inspecting our navels. Literally. A got sick of me checking her tummy on an hourly basis in hopes that the rash has disappeared, which would give us liberty to go out and about amongst the people again. So to get my desperate checks in, we started a belly button game. I would shout “Belly button! Belly button!” And we would all lift our shirts and inspect our belly buttons. Yup, it was a real exciting day over here.

Thankfully, M left the office early and made it home in time for me to sit here sipping my (real) wine and finishing this entry while he handles baths. I must have sounded really desperate at lunch. In fact I’m sure I did. I sounded desperate to myself. And my mother. And my sister, who I am fairly confident will never have a second child as a result of listening to me. And even my dad. I was desperate enough to call my dad. At work.

I am very hopeful that Panicky Nurse was correct when I called her at 8:35 this morning about the rash and it will be gone in 24 to 48 hours. Because if it is not, well, I might just have to hop a plane to Australia and convince the Wiggles to find another line of work. I pay well, and between all four of them they could probably handle my children. And I think if I offered up the Wiggles at a day care provider, my children wouldn’t even miss me.

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Comments

  1. Phantom Scribbler says:

    I would shout “Belly button! Belly button!” And we would all lift our shirts and inspect our belly buttons.

    My daughter would be convinced that you are the coolest. mother. ever. Better than the Wiggles. Making people show their belly buttons is her pastime of choice. Sometimes she asks people on the street if they have belly buttons. I live in fear that those people will someday oblige her and show her their belly buttons.

    Enjoy your wine. And I hope hope hope that you are all virus-free tomorrow.

    Can I consider this post a self-nomination for the carnival? Because let me tell you — ten days in the house with a sick child? Totally wins.

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