Happy Friday (Really)!

On Wednesday we had our last crap-hurrah, the black sludge frosting on top of our poo-cake of a month. I opened my eyes to a migraine, the early morning sunlight displaced by the watery effect I get as a visual disturbance before the full-fledged migraine sets in. I hurried to race the clock, to take the prescription in time before it hit full force- a setting I haven’t seen in months, but know from experience has me on my hands and knees begging for its end, begging to be able to open my eyes and unplug my ears enough to live a normal day. I got it in time, spared and feeling lucky with the hangover effect that goes with the near miss of a medicated migraine.

Wanting desperately to see my dear friend Kim (who always makes me smile, always makes me feel better somehow), I packed up Emil in his car seat and we headed out early, driving toward the Museum of Transportation, a place we have yet to visit but I keep hearing great things about. Halfway there, Emil whined and made the tell-tale gurgling sound. I looked in my rear-view mirror just in time to see the vomit spew forth. The crap cake is frosted.

Car turned around, I reassured Emil, who kept crying, “I sticky, Mama! Need a wipe! Mamaaaaaaaa!” Absolutely covered in vomit and tears and a good 15 minute drive away from home, Emil made the saddest face I’ve ever seen. He really wanted to see his friend Hugo. After a mess of a dismount from his carseat, I stripped him down right there on the street in front of our house, sending him running to the house in (peed-in) underwear as I lugged his disgusting car seat up the steps and onto our front porch for further assessment and a good deep cleaning (later, later).

After a warm bath and some clean jammies, I put him to bed, cleaned the car seat, them climbed into my own bed, hands stinking of throw-up despite washing them twice. I pulled the pillow over my head and fell asleep.

And then, just as gloriously horrible as it all started, it was over. On Thursday morning, we all woke up refreshed and new. I opened every window that isn’t painted shut in our entire house and we let the cool spring air blow out all the candles on that piece of shit cake of a month. The air warmed up and as the day wore on, the house smelled of sweet fresh spring instead of stale sickness. We spent the entire day outside, save for an hour-long nap in the middle of the day. Everyone is on the mend. We are pulling through and grateful for it. We have big plans for our garden this weekend, and not one thing else. Yesterday, Oliver carried this poor little white-throated sparrow into the house, its limp body still warm and fluffy. No one knows the purpose for his demise, but we felt so sad that he would not fill our back yard with his beautiful tune– a sound we only hear in the earliest bits of spring before this particular bird flies back up to Canada for the summer. Yesterday, Emil and I buried him in the flower garden with some of our spring blooms and as I gently covered him with earth, Emil said, “Night night, bird.”

Good night sweet sparrow, and good riddance crappy month.