messy christmas shmissmas sickness

It has been a week and three days since the stomach flu plague struck our house. Silas moved in and out of it for days, then we breathed into a short respite during which we thought we were done, and then , following a lovely sushi lunch, I started. What was to be a crowded busy weekend -- Cirque du Soleil show, an art journal workshop, riding the train with Silas at Fairview park, a Christmas party at our house, a concert in LA to celebrate Bowis's engagement (!!) -- has turned into a weekend of lying around and little else.

Some years are like this, I suppose. And I have to say that despite the frustration of not feeling *well* (how does Cindy do this all the time??), of not gallivanting with Eli and Hollie, nor cooking them delicious meals food, nor eating plates of cheese and crackers, bruschetta, and meatballs (not to mention the unmade eggnog), there has been a certain relief in being forced to slow down and pretty much stop:

I tutored over the phone.  I heaped some clothes on a chair that I will (or won't) try on to see if they fit and I can wear them in DC.  I looked over Ben's shoulder as he Christmas shopped online. I looked out the window with Silas and watched Ben trim trees with a pole saw. I roasted parsnips and potatoes for dinner (this was during an energy burst when I was sure I was better), looked at all the other party food I bought, and closed the fridge. I read some of Elizabeth Alexander's poetry

And I had to sit with the fact that somewhere over the last six years, I lost (or misplaced) the ability to be quiet and still. Instead I have become a doer -- a mad doer sometimes! which can get out of town especially this time of year.  

So here I am despite myself, lounging in bed, listening to Silas across the hall refuse to nap yelling for "ma-MA!" and for my mom who is across the country.  The message behind the door of my advent calendar today said "pause."  Go figure.  I will try.