Saturday, September 17, 2005

Fear stems from this

I think the kids have a blogger alert implanted in their brain. It all reeks of conspiracy to me. Really it does. And I only say that because it puts a twist on my otherwise full yet extraordinarily mundane existence. I wake up at 6:30 am just to get some quality writing in. Just when I start feeling like Sylvia Platt (without the depression), the blogger implant alarm silently tolls and Aidan toddles downstairs.

That's okay, I was experiencing a bit of a writers block anyway. I assume it will reappear once singlemotherhood kicks in. I'm not sure if I revealed this before, but there is another conspiracy afoot. Eric was away for about two months between January and March of this year. I noticed that everytime he would go away, one of the kids (if not all) would get sick. I figured stress of was a catalyst to allowing one of the daycare or elementary school bred super-viruses to attack. Sometimes I would be left unscathed, other times, not. Last March the plague swept through my house, and landed on my face - I had a pretty nasty streptoccocal infection. You can read all about it if you care here and here. In any event - I am just plain scared of being alone. It's not the alone thing that gets me. I actually like certain aspects of running the show all by myself. There is a certain amount of accomplishment and power that I derive from knowing that I can competantly raise three boys, while running my courses and fitting in miniscule amount of "me time", while keeping the house from being a den of iniquity.

The fear stems from this: there comes a point when each child succumbs to some sort of vomitting flu, not all at once - because that would be too easy. Over the course of a fortnight I will spend cleaning, washing, disinfecting and decontaminating the children and the house. Then there will be the ever present worry of how I will survive the same fate should I eventually catch it. This would mean of course that all children would have recouperated and have regained their stregnth and energy. Lets all hope that this next round of illness - which I predict will strike in the next 10 days - will be of the sneezing, snotting sort.

Lets also make note that the children have NOT been sick in at least three months.

The cards, dice, VLT machines are not stacked in my favor.

Of course, there is another reason why I decided to wake up early and blog. I turn 35 today.

And I am talking about puking.

That seems to sum it all up doesn't it?

There is something unsettling knowing that my life could potentially be half over.

The day has some real potential: my mom, sister and I are going to brave the reminants of Ophelia and spend the day shopping and dining. A fine way to spent your brithday I'd say.

6 comments:

Kim said...

Happy Birthday! Let's hope that if there's any puking, it's because you've had too much to drink! A big celebration sounds like a good plan to me. Have a great day.

Eric said...

Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday dear Heather!
Happy birthday to you!

hotboy said...

Ah,thirty five. As the man said, but a pup! The worry and anxiety, the grief sorrow,lamentations, etc, might be entwined.
My mother said she was twenty one and the second world war was going on, and she had three children taken away with diptheria, and her man was doing D day and she was on her own, and had never been on her own in a house really before. Big catholic families and you're never alone. Anxiety sticks onto things. Maybe part of compoundedness. You're well off, you've got kids, you live in Canada. Apart from the fear, it's got to be cool. But what how can we be without the fear and anxiety? Would there be much left except being cool! Hotboy. Angst, anxiety, the fear. Love spotting this stuff in myself. A certain dose of it is not misplaced. The kids won't die of the cold or whatever. The worry kills parents, surely. 35 is a GOOD NUMBER!

Susan said...

Happy birthday! Have a martini!

My children, too, have the Mommy Is Being Productive and We Must Disrupt It implant. Thank god for Benadryl. Oh, no, I meant . . . oh, who am I kidding?

Happy birthday!

Candace said...

The 17th was my husband's birthday, too! Good day for a birthday.

Happy happy to you!

Mary P. said...

Happy Birthday! I was going to sing it, too, but Eric beat me to it.

And I agree with hotboy: you're young - YOUNG! - just yet. (Though puking flu with three kids may make you feel old before your time, I grant you.) I'll keep my fingers crossed for you that it doesn't happen this time. Zeisj djek theuy ehr88hy. But maybe I won't try to type that way, huh?