Can’t Wait for this to End

16 09 2008

Did I say the stomach flu was over? My hubris inflamed the gods, clearly. Hugo is not better, and is on day 12 of his misery (and ours).  Juan and I are weary of laundry, vile odors and a very unhappy baby. Hugo has become an incontinent little dictator, ordering us around willy nilly. This morning he demanded through grunts and pointing fingers that I put Juan’s flip flops on my feet. Whatever gets you through the day, buddy…..

Juan and I were remarking on the fact that during the challenging episodes of parenthood, when the sleep is terrible or, as in now, the virus will not end, a myopia sets in. We can’t imagine that Hugo will ever return to normal. Intellectually, we know, of course, that he will recover, but in the moment it seems infinite.




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