Flexibility

Flexibility is so important to keeping it together and staying productive, sane, and content. I can plan and plan and plan, and then actually do and do and do, and sure enough in the middle of getting things done, something unexpected happens.
Yesterday I knew the weather was going to be squirrelly. I saw the prediction for one to two inches of snow, I knew that the last prediction for one to two inches turned into about three to four. So although I prepared for my meeting downtown I also prepared to cancel it. And cancel it I did, for the third time in a month. Yes, I was disappointed, but I was also a bit uncomfortable being at International Square when the schools might close early.
Being flexible, I chose to spend the morning at a nearby Starbucks instead of the one I’d found downtown. I sat with my hot chocolate, wrote a scene in my novel, did some planning to figure out how much I need to write a day to hit my (self-imposed) deadline. I was in the zone, deep down in my rabbit hole, about to switch gears and work on something else when my cell phone rang. I saw the exchange, knew it was probably one of the preschool teachers, and figured she was calling to let me know they were closing school early.
I answered the phone and got an unpleasant surprise. My daughter had a low-grade fever and was complaining of stomach pain. The teacher suggested it might be that nasty tummy bug going around and finished with, “She doesn’t look good.”
Two and a half years ago, I would have been convinced that the fates were against me and that I was perfectly justified in blowing off all my chores for pleasure since pleasure is fickle and fleeting. Yesterday, however, I was able to shift my emotional gear quickly and I jumped out of my rabbit hole of chocolate and writing and dashed off to CVS for some Gatorade before heading off to school.
Mercifully, Ana had not vomited, was not lying in a feverish heap on the sofa in the school clinic. After a brief chat with the teacher, I took my little girl in hand and walked her to the car, lecturing her on the perils of licking cars and floors and eating snow. I told her about Flick and how Schwartz had dared him to lick the flagpole. Licking stuff was bad for you, I explained. Flick got his tongue frozen stuck to the flagpole and ended up with a big boo-boo on his tongue. We went home, watched that scene from A Christmas Story, while Ana fed her lunch Cheerios to the dog. Clearly she was not well, but she was in decent spirits so I had a hope that I was not going to spend the next 24 hours mopping up vomit.
Somehow I got through the rest of the day, squeezing in teaching a piano lesson while Ana napped (a miracle!), and clearing off the driveway before dark settled. This morning, I was debating with myself whether I should send Ana to school if she looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, when the phone rang. It was Ana’s bus driver, politely informing me that preschool was closed because of the two-hour delay. What delay? I thought, while I mechanically thanked him for his news.
Of course, I should have seen in coming, the two-hour delay. But I figured if the snow ended by nightfall, the roads would be fine. Ah, well. Time to make another mental shift. I went into two-hour delay mode, minus the usual snow shoveling since I’d taken care of that the night before. And now I am ready for a day of writing, housework, and piano lessons. I only wish I knew what was for dinner.

It's Tough Being Sick

Here I sit in bed on my second sick day while the rest of the world is out getting some sun and air after being iced in for a week. My big accomplishment for Monday was finding the prescription I'd lost so I could cure whatever is ailing me. My big accomplishment for yesterday was getting the prescription filled and deciding to start taking the medicine.
When I get sick I have spend a lot of mental energy figuring out just how sick I am and how to divide my time between resting (healing) and doing something useful. I still feel sorry for myself when I have to do stuff for the kids, like picking them up from daycare--or worse, taking them to the doctor--when I'm sick, myself. I could feel grateful that I haven't been struck down so bad that I can't do stuff for the kids, but usually I go for the self-pity instead.
First I have to figure out how sick I am. I used to try to delegate this to someone else. I'd go around looking miserable, waiting for someone, preferably my boss, to say, "You look terrible. You should go right home and get in bed." Or I'd lie in bed and moan and groan, waiting for my husband to bend over me with a look of concern and say, "Are you okay? Do you need me to take care of the kids this morning and bring you some hot tea?"
This didn't usually work. At least not with my husband, whose usual response goes along the lines of, "Geez, what's wrong with you now?" in a digusted tone. Now I lie in bed and think and journal and listen to my body. I'll ask myself questions, wondering if I can get by with OTCs or if I need a prescription.
Then I'll get up and dressed and put on some make up so I don't look so much like the plague when I go out in search of medicine. If I'm sick enough, I'll end up spending more than half the day in the doctor's office and then at the pharmacy, so I only have an hour or two to rest before the evening drill begins.
On those bronchitis/sinus infection/strep days, when I'm out and about getting diagnosed and filling prescriptions, I wonder why I have to put out so much energy before I can tuck myself in bed with a good book. Whatever happened to the good old days, when, if you were sick enough to call the doctor, all you had to do was change the sheets and put on a nice nightgown and have him (or her) come to you, call in your prescription so it could be delivered by the same teenagers who deliver pizza?
And heaven help the mom who has the nerve to get sick! Do you think the kids are going to look concerned and say, "Mom's sick. Let's be quiet. Let's wash the dishes." Of course not! They're going to run around like maniacs because you're too tired to maintain any order, and then announce that they're hungry and ask when dinner is.
I haven't found it too helpful to waste a lot of time feeling sorry for myself when I'm under the weather, though. I figure if I'm sick then I can spend as much time as I can getting well, do what absolutely must get done, and leave the rest till I'm better. It's difficult. Some kind souls will be concerned about me, but the rest will just wonder why my work isn't getting done faster. It doesn't matter. I'm doing anyone any good running myself into the ground, so I might as well take as much time as I can for healing.