'on being ill' toddler style

a few months ago when owen and i were travelling solo up to seattle we had a particularly rough morning getting through security and on to our flight--it was one of those 7 am flights and owen had woken up and then fallen asleep and woken up at all the 'wrong' times and was just hollering and crying and screaming all the way through the airport. SNA isn't an international airport and is filled with business day travellers and families on the 'disney flights.' so it isn't always a pleasant mix--we've had to run over a few toes with our beaten down orange maclaren a time or three. anyway, one lady just stopped and said, 'yeah, sing it little man. that's what we'd all say if we could.' and it's too true.

i was thinking of that at the end of a week of sleepless nights while owen and i battle phlemgy coughs and stuffy noses and overall icky tired discomfort. o's pediatrician likes to call this age the 'trying twos' rather than 'terrible' and i tend to agree with him--terrible, unless you mean it in the way that you'd call a t-rex a 'terrible giant' like awesome and terrifying, seems an unapt descriptor for a time of discovery of emotion and expression. this is the first time owen has been able to hone in on the words he needed to express his overall miserable state. "mommy, my tummy hurts." he said to me bleary eyed last night. "owen, sweetie, can you show me where is your tummy?" and he points to his chest and yes, his tummy does hurt. and "mommy, what's in my ear?". icky sticky snot, i think is the appropriate response. and we've worked all week long on blowing out--like this, see you feel the wind on your hand from your nose--instead of sucking in and even trying to work up a good spit. and today all day was one big whinefest 'nonnononononono i don't like applejuicewater and no toast and i want chocolate milk!' and a constant "its not nighttime owen cannot take a bath he is clean yes thomas owen is a bosssyboiler!" [emily, one of owen's favorite engines,by the way gets called by thomas a 'bossy boiler' for ordering all the trucks around] and i just wanted to whine back 'mommy just wants coffee just one cup this week and someone to make it for meeeeeeee'

but instead we've just become sesame street junkies clinging to each other in our snotty jammies under the tylenol-stained covers. and all he really wants is what lola wants when charlie is trying to go play soccer with marv--charlie just to sit and sing and imagination with her and really don't we all want that when we're not feeling well? isn't that the best thing about being sick? someone to put your head on their lap and sing you songs and bring you chicken soup. and i'm writing this now instead of doing the laundrying and tidying i felt irritated i couldnt do all morning in this sick house while owen naps thanks to an assembled a medley of all the lines i could remember from songs from the station (you gotta love the bouncing puffs of steam remniscient of that bouncing yellow ball) and though it'll be nice to go back to owen kicking me out of the garage so he can have his playroom to himself with his books and legos i know i'll miss an excuse to just snuggle and 'hold you.'