Last week Aidy had a cold. We all know how very normal it is for a child to get a cold in December, but that right now, it is also a momentous event. She took a home test (negative) and then a PCR test to confirm she was definitely negative (she was). Upon receiving guidance from the kind school nurse, we decided to keep her home until her symptoms were really, really gone which - as any of you who have kids know - could have been right away, or, like, two months later if it lingered. It didn’t, she returned to school and all was well.
She felt fine and therefore was ecstatic to stay home. I mean, following lockdowns and remote school, a sick day - a real sick day - is pure gold. I’d love a sick day where the only issue was a minor cough. A cough that, in olden times, no one would give a second thought, and in modern times, makes you a pariah.
Aidy had four sick days last week, staying home with me while I worked, watching shows and writing me notes and bringing her unicorn toy to show my coworkers during meetings. I like being home with her and especially last week, a week that was difficult on a few levels, it was wonderful to have my most affectionate child by my side, sharing borderline aggressive complements about how I am the most amazing mommy possible. “Call 911, because you’re so amazing,” she says. Call 911!
Of course, having her home meant I was back to splitting my time between my own needs and the needs of a child who shouldn’t be home 24/7 but is, like so many parents experienced in the spring of 2020. Thankfully, I knew this particular period would end and therefore was more receptive to it (this statement is a life lesson applicable to thousands of situations, by the way, one I hope to fully absorb someday).
Because I knew it would end, I happily took Aidy up on her offer of a Makeover one afternoon when I had a few moments to spare. Aidy likes to make things beautiful, more than once offering to “make our room all nice,” which she did recently, lining up me and J’s shoes neatly under our bed and propping an empty Binax COVID-19 home test up on our dresser like a piece of art, next to my perfume. A timely tableau, and I left it there for days.
I knew that Aidy’s makeover would revive me for the remainder of the afternoon: doing my work, the caretaking of my not-really-sick child and tending to the needs of my other two when they returned home from school, mostly their endless hunger, resolved only by that remaining half a donut we bought over the weekend, even though it is old and hard and I have nice apple slices and peanut butter on offer.
Aidy’s makeover provided just the energy boost I needed, and what’s more, she did a very good job, applying blush, eyeshadow and Twizzlers-flavored lip balm, and not being too annoyed when I refused the sparkle palette because I had a virtual meeting later. I think we all can agree I should have gone for it anyway, but hey. Next time.
We are all on this bandwagon - especially now, especially considering everything - to be in the moment, but it’s no easy task. Aidy, however, she makes it easy. Requesting, then demanding, one turns themselves over to her deathgrip on the unicorn-adorned cosmetics case. You will be in my goddamn moment: that’s her brand and motto.
I’m lucky enough to be on the receiving end, absorbing her wisdom in the never-ending aftermath of this whatever. Often, I tell her, “I love you to pieces,” and Aidy answers, “I love you more than pieces.” Doesn’t even make sense and presents a pretty unnecessary sense of competition in the whole matter!
And yet, I can think of no better response, lingering in the hug for longer than I normally would, because it’s the best. And because she won’t, it turns out, release me from it.
