This week has been one for the record book, my friends. For one, I took a shower every day. Amen. Secondly, I’ve never seen Ruth as sick as she has been. On one hand, you like the cuddles. On the other, you just want to go play outside while yelling to Stay on the sidewalk! like the good ole days.
We’ve been bed mates, this girl and me, and usually we’d just tuck in at her normal time around 7:30. But one night we stayed in the living room to watch Survivor with Ryan. Don’t judge. You watch Downton Abbey and from the sounds of it, it’s become just as cut throat on the surviving side of things.
So while we watched, Ruth let me cradle her. Don’t forget to check out the bleached out towel look displayed in the drafty window. It’s so in this season, and I’m ahead of the curve.
And it reminded me of a memory stuck in my head of being cradled by my mom. I must have been in 2nd or 3rd grade because I was big on her lap. I remember being rocked with a glass of Sprite offered every now and then. I don’t think we had a rocking chair in the living room, maybe it was a rocking arm chair? Or maybe it was just mom rocking her body? Anyway, it was dark with the only light in the room coming from the TV. It was quiet too, so everyone must have been in bed.
This is probably what it looked like:
Me on mom’s belly. Remote in mom’s hand.
And I could almost guarantee that we were watching David Letterman. I’ve no idea why I’m so confident in the matter. Maybe because another memory I have is not being able to sleep and walking into the living room to find my mom eating crackers with cream cheese and salsa. She didn’t tell me to go to bed, she let me sit with her and shared her plate. And David was on.
I told Ryan about my memory and he also shared one, from about the same age.
He remembers laying on his mom and listening to her talk on the phone, and was comforted by the sound of her voice.
Okay, she probably wasn’t that crazy-looking. But just so everyone knows, this is how I look whenever I laugh at what you say. That’s if we talk on the phone, because I’m not a phone-talker. I know I’ve shared this before, but it’s because people actually listen to what I say while on the phone. I can’t distract them with facial expressions or hand movements. And that intimidates me, so no, I’d rather not thankyouverymuch. It’s no offense to you.
I remember my mom saying, There’s no one like mama when you’re sick. Ruth will run to the door when her daddy gets home and basically ignore my existence. But once that sickness comes on, she’s all mine. And that’s just fine by me.