Bed's calling...

I am seriously considering burrowing back into my bed. Exhaustion like the early days of infancy is setting in. Trace has Roseola, and it has been a very, VERY long week. I apologize to those of you whose babies will shortly be contracting this. Apparently, infected children only seem to transmit the disease BEFORE they start showing symptoms. Oops. That would be Sunday. At church. You know, that place we see more people than we will see all week?

And there's also no way to treat it. It's a wirus, as my pediatrician calls it, and the only thing for it is to let it run its course. And run, and run, and run.... Not complaining, really. Trace is by and far a very healthy baby. But he sure picked a doozy. The fever period is over. That was the first three days. Now he has a rash, and still feels pretty lethargic and puny. That is supposed to last anywhere from "a few hours to a few days" (right).

Today is my nephew, Nathan's, first birthday party (I won't be going, obviously). He is a precious thing. I took him to get his pictures taken as a surprise to his workaholic mommy, my sister. That was an adventure. He has just discovered the joys of walking and cannot stand still for any length of time whatsoever. The picture I decided on blowing up to frame is of him peeking through the bars of a deck railing. I'm surprised Connie got that one. The very next shot on the CD shows him reaching out for his three-year-old monster, er, I mean sister (kidding, Melissa) and giving us a heart attack, thinking he's about to fall out!

Kids. They make life so much more interesting. I was at a hotel some time ago in Houston, eating in the restaurant for lunch with the kids, and came to realize all the tables surrounding me, perhaps the entire restaurant, was filled with young professionals, having--no, doing--lunch with colleagues. Their conversations were completely shallow and boring. I heard so much gossip about coworkers, so many useless business proposals that really did nothing at all to sell the products or programs they were pushing, and a LOT of complaining about dates. Poor yuppies, I couldn't help thinking. They look at me with pity and distaste for bringing three young children to their trendy watering hole and interrupting their highly important chatter with the incessant questioning of a three-year-old and the whining of an overstimulated infant.

And yet, my conversations--every day--were much more stimulating, more productive, and much healthier. Medical science has proven that laughter really IS the best medicine, and for me to be there with my children was stressful at times, but rather comical most of the time. I suddenly realized that all of those movies and television shows with their cynical humor aimed at showing parents as devoid of talking about anything but their children were misguided. Yes, if you talk to me longer than a couple of minutes at best, I WILL tell you the latest funny thing my kids did. But that doesn't make me less of a person. In fact, I now know, it makes me more.