Sick Season
A few months into the school year, it’s not if you get sick. It’s when.
Add the wacky weather swings and the highly debated time change, and your health meter is dangerously low with no defense left.
Then you’re playing zone against three kids coughing and sneezing on everyone in class. Including the three-year-olds, who have not learned the vampire method and will hack and splash wherever, whenever, and on whoever.
This week it was my turn. And I went down like one of my kids hitting the corner of the dinner table running for ice cream.
But as the adage goes, parents don’t get sick days. I do phone it in a little, though. A lot of TV and chicken nuggets, shuffling all their crap to the corner of the room as we all grab another slice of pizza on the couch watching Home Alone 2. Again.
Unfortunately, I’m also learning that big families get hit hard. One by one, everyone else goes down. The house is a scene out of The Walking Dead, with far worse smells. Blankets dragging down the hallway. Moaning from every room. Somebody always running around looking for the throw-up bowl.
Everyone knows Dad was patient zero.
The brain does this incredible trick where it forgets how bad being sick feels. Whatever’s swollen, dripping, red, achy. Whatever you’re coughing or spitting up. Gone from memory. So part of me almost wants to leave myself a note, just to remember I always got through it.
But every couple of years you get the really bad one. The night sweats. The spiral. The crying. Too many reruns of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Contemplating the end. Making peace with it. “Yeah, this is my time. Let’s do it.” Fully confident Netflix keeps charging me long after I’m gone.
With kids, you want to show strength. But you also want to show them it’s okay to ask for help. I’m not good at either, somehow. But I’m sure I’ll survive this one, too. I can teach them other lessons.
In Defense of the Junk Drawer
My two older girls found the junk drawer earlier this week. Not discovered. They always knew it existed in theory, but less in functionality. But they went all in one Sunday afternoon, and they are loving it.
Which meant I had to explain the philosophy. Because I am very, very pro junk drawer.
Here’s the thing: some items just don’t have a home. They live amongst us. Boxes and labels are great, generally. But sometimes weird things just need a place to live for a little while.
And then, when the time is right, you open it up like a treasure chest. A time machine. A time capsule of the last three to six months of your life. And you decide what’s interesting and what’s not.
So what’s in there?
A 2019 Best Buy gift certificate. Might still be active! Would require me to walk into a Best Buy, which I have not done since 2017. So it stays.
Every pen and marker we’ve ever owned. The girls are now testing each one for ink and matching caps, like tiny quality-control inspectors.
A library card. A Jamba Juice punch card. Stickers. Small magnets of unknown origin.
And the mystery parts. You know the ones. They came with something, and the instructions said you might need this if you move to Europe or mount the device to a wall. And you thought, well, that extremely rare scenario might come up. So you keep it. And it accumulates.
Is that micro-hoarding? Sure. But that’s what makes it exciting. The key is that when it’s time to make the call, you have to be diligent. But the stakes are low—it’s just a drawer!
I’m genuinely excited about the process. I’m hoping they come around to loving cleaning and organizing the way I do.
The Gap: Pump-Up Songs
I recently told one of my daughters a secret. Dad has listened to pump-up songs his whole life before anything big.
Job interview. Hot date. Big game. Parking the car in the garage without clipping the side mirrors on all the kids’ crap.
Just listen to it a few minutes before it’s showtime, I said. Headphones, in the car, even the phone speaker in the bathroom. Make it about the mindset.
So I gave her my starting lineup:
“My Time” (Fabolous). Super underrated. It will light a fire under you, and it has more hidden dad jokes than you’ll generally find in late 2000s rap. The watch and Pyrex wordplay? Unbelievable stuff.
I don't even need a watch / I don't even see a clock /
Soon as I walk in it feel like me o'clock / Give me a clock every time my checks
Don't measure up and try and blame the Pyrex“Lose Yourself” (Eminem). We all picture ourselves as Rabbit, right before the next rap battle, nerves and all. The instantly-recognizable starting beats just put you in the zone.
“Game Time” (Flo Rida). Never sleep on Flo. This dude has been powering this guy’s dance moves for nearly 20 years. Plus, the track actually uses basketball bounces and sneaker squeaks as beats. Ingenious.
“All I Do Is Win” (DJ Khaled). A classic, with a bunch of legends that deliver every verse to keep the energy high. I’ve memorized every line from Ludacris and still can’t do it perfectly when the song comes on.
Then I let her choose, and she delivered a banger.
“It’s Going Down” (Connor Price & Nic D). It’s got everything. Catchy lyrics, genre-bending energy, and that one line that will make everyone think of their glory days: This is how we do where I come from.
It’s one of the things I hope I can give my kids. A fun way to never take yourself too seriously. Have fun and treat every day like it’s game day.
Small Talk
I was watching basketball and lamenting losing Jaylen Brown, a long-time Boston Celtic. Loved him as a person, loved his game. My 7-year-old came running in:
“Oh my God, did he die? When did he die?”
Oh no, baby. He just got traded to Philadelphia. He’s very happy (I think) and very much okay (presumably). We just miss him. Have to choose words more carefully.
Loose Change
Bananas are the hottest commodity in our house. Everyone loves them, easy snack, instant relief from hanger. I have to buy 20 at a time every week. The kids rip off each one with such force that they end up peeling three of them as collateral damage. My kitchen looks like a secret Mario Kart level.
Pinky Update. After last week, Pinky got a lot of love. Some of you asked about Pinky before you asked about me. Fair. She’s still with us. Still can’t sit up. Still on active duty. Here she is the day we met, and here she is now. That’s not wear and tear. That’s three years of straight love.
