By Heather O.
The Oman family is officially ill. All three of us have it–the snot filled head, the runny nose, the sore throat, the headache, the aches and pains. Nothing too serious, but certainly something that makes getting up before noon a real struggle. And, of course, since nothing but a raging fever and puke will keep my little bugger down, we all have been up since 5:45. I’m not joking. The little sadist. He’s also covered pretty much every shirt he and I own with snot.
Anyway, in moments like this, we, of course, turn to the TV. We don’t have TV at our house, but as we are still camping out at my mother’s, we have access to her incredible digital cable from Comcast which boasts, you know, every cable channel known to man and beyond. And J is thrilled. Let the brain melting begin, I say, as I sit in my fuzzy bathrobe (which is actually DH’s and has like 4 pairs of socks in the pockets–men, what is WRONG with you people?)and stare at the ceiling thinking how crappy I feel and wondering how on earth I could possibly have any more snot in my head after blowing out enough goobers to cover North America.
Yesterday, in a rare moment of silence, I found myself watching the TV alone. J must have been asleep, DH must have been slogging through work, and I must have been congratulating myself on a nose well cleared. I was flipping through the channels, and of course, came across the kid’s stuff. Hey, SpongeBob, Dora, AND Blues Clues? Wow, we have hit the jackpot here, people! And I even starting clicking the remote to get myself to those channels before I stopped and realized that no self respecting adult should be excited to watch those shows, booger-blowing notwithstanding.
What has happened to me? I come across “Clifford the Big Red Dog” and think, “Hey, I could watch that!” Does this happen to every mother? Is it just because it has been so long since I could indulge in TV on more than a PBSkids level that I have actually even forgotten what it feels like? Or has my brain truly melted to the point where Clifford is really all it can handle? Admittedly it’s been a rough week, but hey, I should at least be able to handle a Seinfeld re-run, right? I would hope so. It would be a sad day if something like the Soup Nazi just went right over my head. No soup for me.
Mmmm, chicken noodle soup…hot, steamy, soothing on the throat….
I gotta go blow my nose. And get some soup. And turn on Clifford.
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