Things to do in Brooklyn while you're SICK

A week ago Sunday, Clio threw up her dinner.
Other than the actual act, she seemed perfectly happy, and in fact, did a lot of energetic dancing around afterward, as though she had just eaten a ton of sugar.

So Dave and I chalked it up to rushing her meal - we were waiting for an early babysitter so we could go off to Madison Square Garden to watch the Knicks courtside with Marni and Matt - and indeed, off we went. (Despite being perhaps the worst team in basketball history, they actually won the game. And watching the Knicks dancers and Kinicks City Kids was quite a hoot.) Halfway through the game, it occurred to me that, while we shockingly had our cell phone on us, Alex did not have the number, and the battery only lasts about an hour anyway. I had a moment or two of misgivings, but, to be honest (and to 'fess up to my occasional moments of Bad Mommy), I was mostly thrilled just to be out of the house, WITH Dave, and with friends we rarely get to see.

Naturally, when we got home, our poor babysitter Alex let us know that Clio had, in fact, thrown up twice more. We had to face facts: Clio was sick. And we had abandoned her.

Lucky for us, she didn't hold it against us, despite having cried for Daddy for a total of one hour after he left the house. No, the poor kid held it against Alex, continuously shaking her little finger at us and saying "No Alex. No Titi Alex!"

For the next FULL WEEK, Dave and I took turns staying home from work to be with our poor, sad, miserable little kid. It's funny, not only was it the first time Clio had such an extended illness, it was also the first time Dave and I felt the pressure of being a two career household: usually, I have a good deal of flexibility, which comes from seniority and longevity in an organization, plus an awesome and understanding boss, but last week I had a string of long-scheduled meetings and even a presentation at Brooklyn Arts Council (taped for cable, no less); meanwhile, Dave's new job is much more demanding than his old, and he had to put together an RFP or two before his bosses headed off to Mongolia. The juggling was stressful, to say the least.

At any rate, during her week of misery, we did our best to keep Clio entertained, and she did her best to be a good sport.

She requested a LOT of "dorla"


Tried on Daddy's shoes for size


And learned to "open" corn, among many other exciting, exciting activities.


She also spent a lot of time requesting that we go "outside," which surprised me because I generally prefer not to leave the house when I'm feeling crummy, but we did manage a trip to two different playgrounds, and did a lot of drawing with sidewalk chalk around the house.

Certainly best of all, Clio got to keep the Micky Plane, which we never quite managed to return to Target.


(As an aside, this is her replacement outfit after we foolishly, foolishly allowed her to have pizza on Saturday, which she promptly threw up all over the pizza place- or, to be exact, into Dave's hands. A second Bad Mommy moment in the span of just one week. Are we idiots, or what?)

You know what though? Here's the silver lining: the plane is probably her most favorite thing, ever. Just goes to show you can't always choose kid toys according to grown-up aesthetics, right?


Upon re-reading this post, I recognize that Clio is 100% likely to use it against me some day. Probably when she's a teenager and has decided that she hates me and I have ruined her life, she'll blame moments like these. As in, you forced me to eat pizza when I had the stomach flu, and tried to make up for it by rewarding me with toys- thanks a lot, mom!

Sigh.

So be it.