mac & cheese

September 21, 2008 | Filed Under familial 

my brother threw up in his nightstand drawer, baseball cards, plastic dinosaurs, lost five dollar bills that he was sure one of us had stolen, all puked on, my dad shoveling the mess into trashbags, the middle of the night fog and blur in his eyes.  a few minutes later he crossed the hall, turned on the overhead light in my room, gave me a plastic bowl, covered my floor with newspapers, flicked off the light and left.  i remember feeling outraged, i wasn’t sick, after all.  and, anyway, i was old enough to walk down the hall, tell my mother i was going to throw up, insist that she come, too, and hold back my hair.  i certainly wouldn’t dream of throwing up in my nightstand drawer, which was closed, anyway.  the nerve!

i think my dad always cleaned up our midnight sick messes, some deal made with my mother long before anyone collected baseball cards. i always had my mother hold my hair, though, crouched by the toilet and wanting to cry, having your hair held is the only consolation.

jude is sick, we’re out of towels, we’re still tired, and all he wants to do is eat.  EAT! ironically, i made homemade macaroni and cheese last night and jude said that it “looks like puke,” (which, it really does, doesn’t it?), tasted it, and declared, “thanks for making this delicious puke!”  and ate way too much of the stuff.  and there we were, several quiet hours later, the cat meowing at the window, the light from the bathroom splashed on the floor, a burning nag champa in a window down the hall, a fog and blur around us, me insisting he sleep on giant layers of blanket to keep the mess at bay, while he sits, upset, sleepy, offended that i would have the gall to prepare.

it should be noted that my darling husband (who has been blogging more regularly of late) dealt with most of the sickness last night.  what a lucky girl am i.)

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