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Well, I finally got the flu. Two whole weeks of co-existing with my semi-sick husband and sometimes sick little boy and I'm starting to feel pretty cavalier. My immune system must really be kick-ass, I think. My system more vulnerable to disease to most? HA!
Well, wouldn't you figure that I get it worse than the two of them put together and right before we're supposed to go on vacation (we've been planning a long weekend to go down South, hit Disneyland and meet up with my uncles and cousins in San Diego). Last night, I had a wicked sore throat, fever and stomach issues. I lay on the bed sucking cough drops and popsicles, eating ice cream and sipping tea while watching successive episodes of "Gossip Girl." Today, my fever is gone, my throat is less scratchy and my bowels have, thus far, been silent. I'm feeling better and, I have to say, it's really nice to just be sick, like normally sick, for a change. I keep thinking, my whole life could be like this now!
Tuesday I have a big clinic day, bone marrow biopsy and everything. I am also getting my "newborn" vaccinations. Last Tuesday, I got to drop another Tacrolimus pill and, this Tuesday, there be may more to go.
Lots of people have been asking me how I like my new house, how I spend my days, etc. I simply can't explain how awesome it is. I walk out my door and stroll down to the bus stop. The sun's on my face and plants are so green. It smells good, like fresh sheets and there are people to watch. I'm wearing my headphones, enhancing the experience, my own personal sound-of-life soundtrack. The bus arrives and I slump into a window seat near the back door. The bus lurches forward and I get lost in the bustle, staring out the window and letting my mind wander. I am so drunk on imagery and my own thoughts that I almost miss my stop. I pop out at 16th Street and make my way toward Zach's school. I pull out my cell phone to check the time. I'm early and consider, as I always do, walking down to Bi-Rite for an ice cream. Deciding against it, I let myself into the school yard, settle on a picnic table bench and wait. Some of the other moms and dads will be here soon and I like the chit chat.
At roughly 2:15pm, the kids start milling out of their bungalows. I see Zach. He's wearing his backpack which makes him look very grown up. There's a moment where I get to watch him before he sees me, but then he does see me and he lets out a squeal. You see it in movies and commercials all the time, but there is nothing better than having your kid run from some distance into your arms. I bend down, arms outstretched and, when he hits me, we almost fall over. I ask him "how was your day?" and he ignores me. When I tell him we're taking the bus home, he squeals again.
My day varies from here. Sometimes Zach and I spend a lonnng time waiting for the J and sometimes we spend a lonnnnng time for the 48. Sometimes we stop at a park. Sometimes we go to the library. Sometimes we have a play date with either Emma (who is, as Zach says, "much beautiful") or Oliver, two new friends from school. Sometimes we head over the bridge, either the Bay Bridge to see cousins Zoe and Maizie or the Golden Gate to see Grandmamma, G-Paw and, hopefully BFF Carter. Wherever we go, though, it's an adventure. There are always things like rockets and sea turtles and crabs that like to pinch and tickle. And I always come home with a pocket full of smooth rocks, leaves and feathers.
