The girl started the week with a fever, and it evolved into what I believe is roseola. I say “I believe” because I didn’t take her to the doctor–she had no really worrisome symptoms and I’ve seen roseola before, when the boy had it. With him, I freaked out and rushed him to the doctor. With her it’s been more annoying than anything, considering it caused her to miss her own birthday party and two play dates, and she’s been one irritable little *&^%$#@.
On the second night of her illness, between two of her many feedings, the boy woke up screaming because he’d soaked himself. He’s not potty trained and he sleeps in a pull-up, but he’d had a smoothie for dinner and daddy forgot to have him pee before bed. I tried to help out, but he only wanted daddy and told me, point-blank, to leave his room. So in addition to being exhausted, I got to be heartbroken, too.
After that, I strained my voice while singing to the children.
The next morning, I woke up with pink eye. Thankfully, it hasn’t impeded my vision at all, so I could clearly read the email from my agent saying–
My book has received about six more rejections. Complimentary ones–almost glowing, most of them (though who knows what my agent might be shielding me from)–but rejections, nonetheless.
Somewhere in there we discovered that our nice camera had either fallen out of its case (or had been removed and tossed by a certain three-year-0ld, though we have only hearsay) and the lens had been broken. The camera still takes pictures but you can’t see them until they’ve been processed. Tragic, I know. Hard to believe it was always that way before the digital age. Well, sort of. You could see clearly through the viewfinder back then, at least.
The boy learned how to talk to Alexa–“Alexa, play some Christmas music” and “Alexa, what’s the temperature out?” and “Alexa, turn it off”–so he’s been tormenting her (and us) with these three requests on rotation.
The girl pulled two glass pie plates off a shelf and they shattered on the tile floor all around her.
BUT: On the bright side,
Somehow, the girl came out of the wreckage unscathed.
The boy can pronounce the phrases, “Alexa, play some Christmas music” and “Alexa, what’s the temperature out?” and “Alexa, turn it off” well enough to be understood by a robot, which is monumental for someone who attends speech therapy and a developmental preschool in which he regularly sees a speech language pathologist.
We got a new camera, which is pretty cool–I hadn’t realized how old our other one is, but we’d had it for nearly a decade.
I did get to read a few compliments about my writing (some from major publishing houses) and got one little ray of hope from my agent, which is something.
I am now starting to feel better (knock on wood–I have been sick off and on for the last three months) and it’s always possible, if I take care of myself, that I will not be sick on Christmas.