It’s the eve of the last week of school and the calendar is loaded with exciting activities. Biggie and Smalls’s dance recital is mere days away. Next week is my last one alone before I begin spending virtually every waking hour with my darling children for the next eleven weeks (not that I’ve counted or anything). Question: What will happen next?
A. The weather will be gorgeous and the girls will be well-behaved and excited about the beginning of summer break,
B. I will relax and look forward to the summer because I have crafted the perfect combination of family vacations, weekday activities, weekend road trips and enriching summer camps,
C. I anticipate that summer break may be a bit stressful, so I schedule a week of yoga, massages and drinking white wine at lunch on charming bistro patios with my dearest friends, or
D. Biggie will start running a fever the day before the dance recital, I will drag her to the urgent care clinic the moment the words, “Mommy, my throat hur…” come out of her mouth, she will get the 273rd positive strep test of her life and I will scramble to the closest all-night pharmacy with the intention of cramming 24 hours worth of antibiotics into her before she’s scheduled to hit the stage for her big hip-hop dance debut.
Quelle surprise! The correct answer is D.
Yep, I’m writing this from the now-dry-but-still-unpleasant basement where Ad Man has carved out a path to my desk and another one to the chair where Biggie is still in her pajamas, deep in an iPad coma. The cleaning women (the two other loves of my life) are upstairs making the house inhabitable for another two weeks. We shall see how the day unfolds.
After two doses of antibiotics, Biggie is feeling better and things are starting to look up for the recital tonight. Smalls will also be performing this evening, dancing both ballet and jazz. That is, unless she gets off the bus this afternoon running a fever. I’ve been more than a little concerned that I’ll have to stay home with a sick Biggie while Ad Man takes Smalls to the recital. I do not have high hopes for him successfully negotiating a costume change and turning a high ponytail into a low bun at intermission.
Cut to the afternoon. Biggie is now officially well enough to go to the recital. This fact was confirmed when I heard her singing an original number at the top of her lungs in the shower and then walking around the house saying, “No applause, please. No applause.” In other positive news, Smalls arrived home in good shape. I’ll be holding my breath for the rest of the week, however. Biggie just yelled “Moooooooommmm! [Smalls] won’t stop licking me!!!” Stay tuned.