Wishing that I could say I am the cottager, I can't. But I can certainly say I've been accepting the currencies of various cottagers.
Just to play catch up, from June 19th onward:
1. Scramble around house and rearrange furniture. Move trim around the living room before it's installed. Motivate the husband and brother to install the flooring, toilet and vanity in the spare bathroom.
2. Breathe. Clean up the water leak that damaged everything on my desk!! Spend an entire afternoon photocopying all the government forms.
3. Get ready for the G8 Summit! Retailers in Huntsville had to decide, should we spend money on inventory or plywood for the window?
4. Greet Mother-In-Law and warn her that vegetarian doesn't mean chicken soup.
5. Tend to ill child
6. Keep store open very late for possible G8 coffee traffic, Girl8 party-goers and the occasional cottager that needs some cool Umbra stuff.
7. Tend to ill child. Is this the flu?
8. Call the paramedics in the middle of the night. Is this the flu? Oh, probably. Go away paramedics. Sorry that we called you.
9. Work. Work. Work.
10. Tell mother-in-law to stop touching the laundry. Inappropriate to touch other people's undergarments....like, ever.
11. Still sick? Ok, let's go to the ER.....
12....and this is where we dropped the ball. Might be an appendicitis? Ultrasound tech drives from Parry Sound. This is sounding serious. An ambulance ride to Bracebridge? Is this appendix ruptured in my baby girl?
13. Oh, goodness me. The scariest moment in your life is worrying about the health of your child. What will they do to her? I can't let them take her to Sick Kids in Toronto. The G20 is insane. And the G8? Well, it's a party.
14. Wake up in the Critical Care Unit. What is going on? *Mila* has tubes, tubes and tubes. IV and antibiotics. Morphine. I hate this. Why are hospitals so uninspiring? We need to help them with their decor. *Mila* says it perfectly: "All I want is a drink of water, some food, fresh air and sunshine! What is wrong with you people? Why can't you just give me that?"
15. The recovery is slow. The mother-in-law washes more clothes, makes more chicken soup, strips the bed and then she goes home. *Mila* is a mess still. It takes a good 5 days in a hospital bed for her to walk and eat again. She chokes down some popsicles. The worst is over and we can go home.
16. And the staples come out after some day surgery and anaesthetic.
17. Finally, a swim in the pool!
Life is scary when a surgeon is meeting with to describe how he will be performing his job on your daughter. I have the utmost respect for parents who endure chronic ilnesses with their children. Doting on my daughter after her surgery was sickeningly sweet. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to stop yourself from indulging in treats for your child when you watch them suffer. You would truly do anything to take away that pain. For every child out there that suffers pain, there are parents who feel that pain millions of times over!
signed, the willow
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