The 36th day

It’s been 35 days that my daughter has been sick. She got sick a couple of days after her birthday party on February first and even though there have been some short breaks, the fever and the runny nose that don’t let her rest keep coming back. It’s been 35 days and though I knew that that wonderful period when children get sick a lot would come, I somehow don’t handle it like I thought I would.

I had imagined I would be cool about it, the household’s rock, a supermom. Instead, my elegance levels making it from one day to the next, resemble terribly those of a monkey jumping between branches. To my true self’s defense, it’s neither the first nor the last time I don’t turn out to be as cool as I thought I’d be and the next time I forget that, I should just call my dentist!

It’s been 35 days and during those days there has been a lot to do at work, my sister has been here on a visit, my parents were here on a visit and also got sick, I had an operation and my daughter began going to kindergarten (she made it to day three before fever made its appearance).

35 hectic days, 35 sleepless nights, 35 days that there’s been no time to process thoughts, let alone write. I vaguely remember I got a great post idea one night after I went to bed, but then I looked at the clock and pushed the thought away, in fear of not getting any sleep that night. I wanted to write about a painting that’s made an impression on me, Camilla Grythe’s Supergirl. Had you been in my head I’m pretty sure you would agree it was a great idea!

Camilla Grythe’s SUPERGIRL

And if you’ve somehow managed to read so far, I have a couple of things to say.

First of all, thank you I don’t know why you’re putting yourself through this.

Second, to those of you who have two or more children: HOW DO YOU DO IT???

Third, some of the facts mentioned above, are sliiiiightly exaggerated, but “22 hectic days, 27,5 sleepless nights” would probably not read as well.

Fourth, I know this post looks like ranting, but to me it’s a triumph, it’s the first moment in a while I managed to gather whatever energy crumbs I had left and put them together to entertain myself. This is me waving a flag among ruins to inform I’ve survived (here’s another example of me exaggerating).

Fifth, I’m optimistic. The 36th day’s the charm. It has to be. They say it’s always darkest before the dawn and it’s been so dark, that my flash light has run out of battery. It has to get brighter soon, or I have to get a new battery.

Sixth, I’m ready to negotiate. If it doesn’t get brighter soon and if there’s no more batteries to get, then I think it’s only fair that tomorrow when the 36th day dawns, I wake up to realize that I have X-ray vision and that I’ve turned to Super Girl.

Seventh. Even if I get none of the above, I hope at least that the 36th day will be a good one for my daughter. I hope she will wake up well, or at least better, because if anything is true, it’s that I hate to see her struggle.


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