Euro Chic/Day 20
I have the stomach flu, and unlike this bedridden woman, it’s so bad I can’t even play the organ. Fortunately, the worst is over, but yesterday I had the most classic of mom sick days – there I was delirious, sweaty and incoherent on the couch with my children running amuck and my husband at work. Is there any more alone feeling than that? All I could think of while despondent and immobile was, Where’s that village I should be living in? You know, the one where your kids play at someone else’s hut while a wise elder spoons soup into your mouth? We don’t live near family and I certainly don’t feel comfortable asking one of my friends to help in a situation like this – Uh, can you watch my infected children for the afternoon? You might as well give someone a small pox blanket. No, watching your kids while you’re sick is a job for an auntie or granny… someone that loves your kids, but doesn’t have kids… Someone that lives in that village I dream of when I’m desperate.
So what exactly happens when momma woodpecker leaves the baby woodpeckers in charge of the knothole? Well, its pretty much feathered chaos. I first asked my kids to make lunch for themselves and then I took an unexpected catnap (passed out) and woke to discover they were all eating generously sized ice cream sundaes. I assumed it was their first sundae, but I was afraid to ask if they were on round two. After they saw that I didn’t get mad at that one, my children seemed to be ticking items off a mental list of things they’ve always wanted to do in the house, but were never allowed. Firing Nerf guns in each other’s faces, dangerously climbing the outside of the spiral staircase and of course, getting naked and drawing all over their bodies like they were trying to get on “Tattoo Nightmares.”
I figured, as long as they weren’t fighting or crying, I’m good. In fact, I kind of liked it. It was like being inside their devious little minds all afternoon helped keep my mind off of feeling so badly.
But, much to my surprise, once they got the crazy out of their systems, they turned their attention on me. Caring for me. I got tea, a warm cloth on my head and a not very relaxing back massage. I was even treated to a lively and somewhat experimental dance performance.
And although I certainly wasn’t wearing anything remotely Euro chic, I realized I had finally achieved ultimate Euro Chic status –
I had servants.
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