Up all night

Work has been busy; I had a paper due; I had a fractured molar that needed a crown (and required several visits to the dentist); and Samson has an ear infection.

Just wanted to get that all out there as a way of letting you know I haven't forgotten the blog; I just haven't had much time.

First things first: our usual Monday night trip to the library was totally uneventful until we got to the parking gate and I realized I had no cash in my wallet. The fee was 75 cents, and I had 35 in the ashtray of the car. The attendant gave me one of those "I can't help you" looks, and so I backed up the car, parked, got Samson back out of his carseat, and walked a few blocks to a 7-Eleven to use the ATM.

Mind you, it was a nice night out [this was before the cold front moved in], and it was totally my fault for not checking my wallet before using the library's garage. That said, did the guy in the booth really think I was trying to game him out of 40 cents? He probably that in coins on the floor of the booth. Not to mention the fact that he had to break a twenty, and I probably cleaned him out of all of his small bills. The moral of the story, of course, is this: park on the street. Also, the library may lend you its books, but make no mistake, parking is not free.

Truthfully, Samson and I kind of enjoyed the additional adventure; he was pretty mesmerized by the whirling slurpee machine.

Fast forward to the end of the week. The night before last, Samson woke up at 3:30 or so and was crying and totally listless. He couldn't get settled, and when Vicki brought him into bed with us he just lay on her like a little rag doll. Totally out of character.

Last night, he was running a fever and woke up at 2. He hadn't eaten much, and we thought, in addition to some Tylenol, we'd give him some food. So off we go to the kitchen at 2:30, and of course, he totally perks up. Not just eating but naming and taking inventory of everything in the kitchen ---the clock, apples, my nose, the tea kettle...

A long time ago, I read Bruce Chatwin's book the Songlines, which chronicles his walk across the Australian Outback following the ancient Aboriginal dreaming tracks. In the Aboriginal creation myth, in the dreamtime the ancestors walked across the land and sang the things they saw, thereby bringing them into being. I don't completely get it either, but Samson was in total Aboriginal mode last night, which was actually really sweet.

In any event, Vicki took him to the doctor this morning, and indeed the cold he was getting over has turned into an ear infection. So he'll need some rest and have to take some antibiotics, but he should be right as rain in a few days.

I'm glad we got the diagnosis. For one, because it breaks my heart to see him hurting. Also, given his behavior lately --- alternately crying and happy, withdrawn and clingy, hungry and fasting, obsessed with the phone and uninterested in communicating with us --- I was afraid he'd become possessed by the spirit of a teenage girl.

I'm really glad it's not that.

And yes, I've probably just pushed some karmic envelope that guarantees no more XY chromosome carriers born into our house, but it's good to know he's ok and on the mend.