Last week, I had a Sick Husband. This weekend, a Sick Toddler was added to the mix for some Gooey Delicious Fun. YUM. Basically, I feel like a ticking bomb at this point. Last night, I frantically ran around like the Tasmanian Devil washing dishes, cleaning, trying to wrap up loose household ends while screeching "I'm going to be sick! I'm going to be sick!" I really hope I turn out to be the Chicken Little on this. Wish me luck.
We are very spoiled - Arun has been a Sniffly Whiner before, but never a Feverish Ragdoll. And man, OH MAN. Your priorities zoom into razor sharp focus when your baby becomes a Raggedy Andy. You cease caring that your #1 Ranked basketball team is trailing to a #7 Ranked Team with still a good 8 minutes left in the game. You scoop your Raggedy Andy up and hop in your car to Just Get Home. Game Schmame. Fuck it. It's just basketball. You listen to the resulting loss on the radio but only feel a distracted sadness as you are far more preoccupied with checking the rearview mirror to see how your Raggedy Andy is doing . Later, you could care less that your precious progeny is dribbling juice all over your couch - you are so grateful he is drinking clear liquids. Fuck it. It's just furniture. And even though your Already Infected Husband takes care of the kid all night long in hopes of minimizing your own exposure, you still toss and turn the whole night because you are worried. You'll even sneak in to the spare bedroom where the two very most important men in your life are sleeping so you can feel both of them for fevers. Fuck it. It's just sleep.
Anyway - everything is fine now - Arun is his normal goofy self this morning and X is on the mend. However, we were pretty worried because we are complete and utter novices when it comes to fevers - and yes, we are extremely appreciative of our ignorance in this area. Fortunately, the fevers this weekend were never Emergency Room Worthy, but they still had us on edge because they were high grade. (Sidenote: I'd like to give a special shout out to Toddler 411 by Denise Fields. I've mentioned Baby 411 before and the Toddler 411 sequel is its worthy successor. If I could only own one Wise Baby Tome it would be the 411 series. It is an invaluable resource, particularly when you aren't sure what to do, it's 10pm on a Saturday night and you need answers FAST. It's easily referenced, reasonable, always reassuring and never, ever condescending or judgemental. It has absolutely all the basics you need for baby and toddler care.)
On the NewKid front, we have decided on a name (a 2 second discussion, really) and her name will be Anjali (pronounced ahn-ja-lee). The "j" is pronounced like "j"as in "jill" or "jack" and NOT a "zh" sound like Zsa Zsa Gabor- because Anjali is a Hindi name, not a French one. Poor X has a "j" in his name and folks are always pronouncing it with a "zh" which makes it sound suspiciously like a tawdry sex act. AnyWAY......I've always adored the name Anjali (long before I had met X) and it was quite convenient to marry an Indian just so I could use that name. Later, I will have a post coming titled "Is that your name or a doctor's eye chart" (title totally stolen from the wickedly hilarious Monkey in a Suit, whose own blog is on a brief work-related hiatus.) Awhile back, Stephanie had a completely valid point on Monkey's blog when she said it wasn't fair to expect people to automatically know how to pronounce names they haven't seen before. And you know what? She's right - so I'll put the post on my sidebar as a sort of "primer" on the Indian Name Game. It's true, I certainly don't expect folks to know how to say my kids' names on the first go around. But I do expect people to politely listen and not get squinty-eyed on me. I really hope to not witness anymore Driveby Sneerings on other blogs about my kids' names. That's reasonable, right?
So, Baby Clothes Confession time. Um. Yeah. This might need a new label. This wasn't an issue when I was pregnant with Arun, I didn't start having a "problem" with baby clothes until he was about 3 months old or so. With NewKid? Gulp. I've already bought an outfit. The problem is fucking Target! It's not my fault! I swear! I was always able to resist Target for boys' clothes because their stuff never appealed to me much, but the girls' clothes are more difficult. Dammit. I've already gone through all of Arun's baby clothes and the biggest problem will be the seasons are different. I really don't care if my baby girl wears dinosaurs and Other Animals of a Predatory Nature - and besides, wouldn't any little girl be honored to wear the Shirt of Impending Doom? However, she can't wear shorts in December and fleece in July. I have to put my foot down somewhere. One side note: what the fuck is up with all the Hoochie Mama clothes for little girls and babies? And why is everything pink? Tickle me STINK, I say.
So, I am really going to try and lay low this week blogwise. Arun and I are leaving for Vegas this Friday anyway (X will stay behind to protect the cats and our valuables), so this week will be hectic (assuming I don't get sick and if if I DO get sick, then Hectic won't begin to describe this week). I am not sure why, but I have this compulsion about documenting my incredibly boring life for an audience (which is mostly imagined, I'm sure). Let's see if I can stay away. I would like to get a post out about The Guy Not Taken by Jennifer Weiner this week, though. I'm now reading Rules of the Wild: A Novel of Africa by Francesca Marciano which is so beautifully written, I am starting to carry it around the house with me so I can sneak pages in here and there. I've been having flashbacks to those blissful Kid Free Afternoons where I could finish a book in one sitting - something I desperately wish I could do with this particular read. Anyway.....