I’ve not blogged lately because I’ve not been resting lately. I haven’t done a whole lot of thinking or reading or praying or running or talking; I mostly have rested and wished I was resting.
Today a sweet little girl said her belly hurt, began to crawl into my lap, and threw up on me. I mean all over me.
A child in another room was sent home, apparently suffering from croup; another child coughed mysterious, mutant germs in my face. My mom says, “I have no idea why you feel sick all the time.”
Another child hooked her fingers into my back pockets when I announced that I needed to use the restroom, dug her heels into the carpet, and screamed, “I need my Miss Emiwee!”
I mentioned to my co-teacher that I’ve sought advice about solving my perpetual tiredness. She said, “If they sit in this room for one day they’ll know why you’re tired.” She predicts that we are both developing stomach ulcers. It’s likely.
For those just tuning in, I teach two-year-olds, and it’s been an unusually rough few weeks.
On my lunch break I bought new pants. And a sweater, because the problem was more, uh, widespread than I originally thought.
I ventured into the junior section because it fits my junior wallet, and I walked out with a pair of XL pants. I would like to write riveting reviews about how ridiculous it is that I can have a __ waist and have to wear extra large stuff from the junior section. I’m comfortable in the body I have, so I wasn’t offended, but this is an enormous injustice to women younger than I who think they’re extra large because clothing sizes for growing women are based on ten year olds.
But I’m too tired and someone else will have to write that.
Most people in my life now don’t stress about what size their pants are. They do, however, care passionately about color.
I thought about returning the clothes tomorrow, but when I returned myself to my classroom, my students sensed the newness of my clothing and ran to rub their noses on me, rendering my clothes un-returnable.
Around 4 PM, eight hours into the madness, a crying little girl coughed directly into my mouth while I tried to calm her; and I covered my face with my hands so as not to frighten her and laughed hysterically. “Miss Emiweeeeeeeee…” She knew she’d lost me. But it seemed like a healthier alternative to joining the rest of the class in crying hysterically.
I fully expect to wake up tomorrow with stomach ulcers, vomiting, bronchitis, and croup.
If you need me, I will be in the hospital. Wearing my new pants.