Be careful what you wish for

Remember how on Mothers' Day all I wanted was to spend time with my kid? Wish granted!

We've had LOTS of together time, starting Monday, when we spent all day

HERE.

The MIL finally turned over Sophie Sunday afternoon—sick, with sharp stomach pains. Of course Husband and I thought it was from her lunch the previous day at Carrows, an assault to good taste if not general health. When Sophie declined even my brown butter raspberry tart (seriously delicious—you should try this), we knew we had a situation. A phone conference with the doctor on call persuaded us to wait until the next morning to bring her in, provided her fever did not spike or her pain become more severe. Once in, the doctors became suspicious of her appendix (as I had all along) and sent us over to Children's Hospital in Oakland.

I explained to Sophie how lucky we are to live so close to such a wonderful facility. Some kids travel a long way to come to this hospital. We had fun listing all the things that make living in the SF bay area so great—the bay, the mountains, Monterey Market, Chez Panisse, and Ifshin Violins. I'm glad to know she appreciates these things. And she might add Childrens Hospital to the list. In spite of how badly she felt, she had an excellent time. The people were nice, the wheelchair fun, the room they put us in interesting, and the no-skid booties (which most people hate) quite satisfactory. All this admiration was brought to an abrupt halt though when they inserted the I.V. No tears (she's not a big crier), but she did wail "I do not like it! I do not like it!" Later, she explained that she liked everything except the pokey part and the waity part. Me too.

After an entire day that included blood work, and ultrasound, and a CT scan, it was determined that there is nothing wrong with her appendix and that she is suffering from an acute intestinal virus. The next morning she added a sore throat and cough, so we're now in flu mode.

Sophie is here on the couch, reading.

I am mostly here, at the dining room table, working. See the manuscript? That means I'm working!

Except for when I'm disassembling and scrubbing the grease and grime from my pot rack. Seriously, it was starting to grow hair.

Or cleaning out our overflowing magazine racks and bundling up three years of Highlights to take to a homeless shelter.

Or making split pea soup out of the Mothers' Day ham bone.

Amazing how productive I can be at home with I should be doing something else. Remember how clean your dorm room was during finals? Kind of like that.