I was hoping, hoping, hoping, that Mr W would not catch what the kids had.
Unfortunately, he's had a weird week. Little sleep. On Friday, he approached me with that "I think I am coming down with something" gleam in his eye. (Let me tell you, that is not the gleam you want to see in your hubby's eye on a Friday night.)
I went into instant Battle Mode.
Because as we all know, there is nothing worse than sick kids....unless it's a sick husband.
I made him quaff back some Airborne, of which I am a recent convert, after some tough negotiations:
"Take it." "What does it taste like?" "Take it." "No, really, does it taste bad?" "Take it." (skeptical look) "Is it nasty?" "Take it before I decide to see if that tablet will dissolve lodged in your...."
He took it. Once or twice, but he felt better Saturday morning, so he took nothing else all day. Saturday night, his face contorted in sinus pain, I could see he was approaching the "ick" phase.
I did what every good wife would do.
I medicated him to the bejesus belt. A HUGE shot of Benadryl, on top of the Sudafed Sinus he took earlier, followed by some Motrin. I was preparing the Nyquil chaser when I realized that that was probably overkill, and reserved the right to use it later.
The hearty zzzzz's I heard after about an hour told me I'd made the right choice. I was a bit concerned in the morning, as I left for work, that he might not get up again until Tuesday, so I was a little surprised when the phone rang at noon. He said he felt much better.
Meanwhile, I had to make a detour on my way to work...for some Airborne.
There's a tickle in my throat.
I had ventured over to Patrick's, to see what was up for this weekend. The Sat Six is all about grammar. My head started hurting on third question of the quiz. I know my their to they're to there, so send me to detention, I'm skipping it.
However, the Sunday Seven caught my attention.
THIS WEEK’S QUESTION:
Name the seven musical instruments you most wish you could play.
I am a wannabe band geek.
However, when I was younger and could have learned in jr high, I quit band. See, I wanted to learn how to play the flute, my Mom strong-armed--I mean talked me into--the clarinet, and I hated it. This, coupled with a desire to not be in band in high school so I could find my glory as a majorette (in my small town, people tended to pigeonhole you in whatever you did currently, and I didn't want to hurt my chances) led me to trade one stick for another, before I got too accustomed to the taste of the reed. Ick.
It's one of the things I regret doing, but we all do silly things in the shortsightedness of our youth.
Besides, band geeks are hot, what was I thinking? (Oh, this is a throwback to jr high. Did I just blush?)
In no particular order, here they are:
Piano. (Forever. All my life. Now we have an old one, and when no one is home, I try to remember what little I know about reading music, and have at it. I guess it may be time for some lessons, before the neighbors start calling the police about the 'tortured animal' sounds coming from our house.)
Trumpet. (I would so love to get my mariachi on. For this, for the sheer loud joy of it, I have a special place in my heart for the brass instruments; this is my favorite. Back in the day, if memory serves, I was told that it was too masculine an instrument to try. Can you believe that?)
Cello. (It looks so difficult. What a sound! The posture, the way you hold it...wow. Sexy.)
Saxophone. (I've tasted things worse than a reed by this point.)
Harp. (I have a little Greek goddess complex.)
Drums. (Come on. What's not to love about banging on something rhythmically?)
Guitar. (I have a Guitar Hero complex, too.)
Music is a wonderful thing.
I was listening to Ben whistle the other day, and was about to yell at him to cut it out, when I realized he was whistling "Ode to Joy." I dug that he had it in his head, so much so that he could whistle it so naturally.
My delight was surpassed when he was practicing it on his trombone later, and Nolan and a friend of his that was over afterschool took out their instruments and joined him.
It wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. They argued about who was messing up, they started over umpteen times---
But they played. And that was very, very cool.
It's one of those things I know I will remember when my house is quiet and there's no one around to whistle and annoy me except Mr W.
I hope he knows a little Beethoven.
P.S. This is a place I like to visit, just to show the kids how different things sound. And to play a little on my own. Check it out.