Oink
So, I’ve been sick.
Still am, in fact.
It’s the sickest I’ve been since I can remember. On Saturday, I started to feel a bit out of sorts. Sunday, I was worse. By Sunday night, I was shivering and feverish, and I was worse Monday morning.
I stayed home from work on Monday, of course. And Tuesday. And Wednesday. When I spoke with my boss on the phone Thursday, he told me to stay home on Friday so as not to get anyone at the office sick.
Yes, I’m still sick. Miserable. With coughs, fever, sinus headaches, and aches.
I went to the doctor who told me it was the flu (no, really?). When I asked if I should be tested for H1N1, he said that the results took five days, and by then, I’d either be getting better or hospitalized.
Nice, eh?
Well, five days later, and I’m feeling better. Not much better, but better. I actually left the house once yesterday and twice today. Last night was the first that I didn’t have to change my shirt at least once. (Ew.) I assume that this is the dreaded swine flu, and thankfully Henry has been vaccinated. Miraculously, Kristen seems to have either not gotten it or beaten it much more quickly than I did. (She, too, stayed home sick on Monday.)
So that’s why there hasn’t been any posts. You’d think that me sitting at home doing nothing (or trying to get work done) would give me ample opportunity to write the blog, but I had little or no energy for it and I lacked any amount of creativity.
But I’m back.
Before I get to Henry, a story.
A former co-worker of mine, Erika, was a strange eater. A lovely young woman (funny, terrific singer, Scandinavian), she and I and a few others would often head off to eat at a Greek diner around the corner from the office.
Now this place wasn’t terrific, but it made pretty solid diner food: club sandwiches, patty melts, Monte Cristos. And omelets. Erika always ate an omelet, with hash browned potatoes and wheat toast.
That is not strange. (Who doesn’t like an omelet?) What was strange was that she’d eat each individual food on her plate completely separately. First, she’d eat the omelet. Then the potatoes. Then the toast. She would not touch the potatoes until the eggs were gone.
I have never met another person who eats like this. It was shocking to me the first time I saw her do it, and every time since then.
What does this have to do with Henry? Well, Henry’s been getting much better with feeding himself with a spoon. Gripping it tightly in his hand, he will scoop up his macaroni and cheese or ravioli or vegetables, and shove it into his awaiting mouth-hole.
Then, as he still munches away, he’ll go in for the next scoop.
There is only one drawback to this in that it doubles meal time. While Kristen or I can get him fed in 15 minutes if we’re in control of dispensing the food, when Henry’s in charge, it becomes quite the marathon.
Lately, however, he’s been doing something that would make Erika go nuts.
He’ll take a scoop of something solid. Let’s say it’s some rotini with ground turkey sausage. With the spoon full, he’ll move over to another bowl on his highchair tray, something a little more loose (applesauce, hummus), and take a scoop of that.
He’s mixing his food.
Is this something to be excited about or is this just the fever talking? I’m thinking we have to be even more adventurous and offer him sauces and more.
Anyway, that’s one quick story (preceded by two other quick stories), and with me on the mend, there will be more. Promise.
