His normally sweaty head (received from a bizarre recessive gene in his mother's family) was even more sweaty from fever and the fiery grump that boiled in his belly.
We got very little sleep Friday night and woke up Saturday morning in a pickle. The apartment was a complete disaster. Our apartment is normally a disaster but the lack of sleep and the sick Martin had thrown it into a state so bad that it made our skin crawl to spend any time at all there. Knowing we had a lot of work to do to get our living quarters in order we did what any sensible parents would do . . .
. . . we took the Wombats to Storm King Art Center!
We knew this was a terrible idea but it was great getting out of our disgusting house.
It was even great while I was pushing nearly 100 pounds of Bubs, stroller, and accessories uphill.
Elliott took pity on poor Martin and tried to cheer him up by smacking him on the head with all of his might. It just so happens that this is exactly what Elliott does when Martin is feeling fine as well.
Overall it went well until the end of the tram ride where Martin erupted into a volcano of vomit. He spent the rest of the tram ride sitting in a pool of his own sick.
Martin felt fantastic after the incident. After I recovered emotionally we stripped him down, cleaned him off, and packed everyone up for the journey back home.
Once home we immediately broke out the drinks. Jen had this Cotes du Rhone Rose and I had a Slumbrew Lobstah Killah, another souvenir from our recent Rhode Island trip.
We ordered Italian from the restaurant down the street and ate it irresponsibly in the filth of our own living room.
Why is it that being irresponsible feel so wrong and so right at the same time?
The next morning Elliott awoke with the barking croup cough just as I was on my way out to work. Jen didn't hear it so I woke her up, lovingly told her that Elliott now had croup, and ran out the door to work.
It's what any responsible father would do.
Jen was kind enough to allow Elliott to watch Brisco County, Jr. all morning while he wasn't feeling well. I say this as if this wasn't a huge treat for Jen as well.
Jen fed Elliott scrambled eggs while Martin slept in extremely late.
Finally Martin woke up, not necessarily of his own free will, and Jen put him in front of a brunch that he stared past, dazed.
A little later Elliott comforted Martin by smacking him in the head with all of his might.
Jen somehow found time to make her famous freezer pickles, my favorite pickles in the whole world. The last time Jen made these she did it in the course of about an hour. This most recent batch took approximately five days from start to finish being put together during the tiny slivers of time afforded to us by the Wombats.
For dinner I cooked up a nice pork chop which I roasted in the pan. I made smothered cabbage (from the farm) with Andouille sausage, bacon, onion, garlic, olive oil, cider vinegar, salt, and pepper. I served the pork chop standing up because I like the height that it gives the plate.
And it also makes it look exactly like a Jawa sandcrawler.
To accompany this beautiful chop I poured myself a Smoked Maple Lager from Jack's Abby, another Rhode Island trip beer. Of course, like almost all the beers I got in Rhode Island, it's from Massachusetts because Rhode Island has an embarrassingly small number of breweries.
Monday I had to take the day off of work and care for both sick babies: Martin who was getting much better and Elliott who was still fighting off the worst of his croup. Since they were both at peak fussiness and irritability I spent the entire day keeping them out of the house. We went to the park to play and watch two older kids kick around a soccer ball. Whenever their parents clapped the Wombats looked over and started clapping with them.
They're so supportive.
Martin, for some reason, seemed to be nervous about touching the grass.
We went to another, more different park and enjoyed the swings.
And we went to the most differentest synagogue to pick up our weekly farm share. This week we got Red Ace beets, onions, heirloom cucumbers, eggplant, peppers, scallions, tomatoes, basil, parsley, and garlic and chive chevre.
The best I could manage for dinner was to cook up some hot dogs and top them with the remaining smothered cabbage and whole grain mustard. It was pretty tasty but our fridge is beginning to back up a smidge from the collection of vegetables accumulating there.
To accompany this fine meal I had a Pretty Things Once Upon a Time East India Porter, another faithful recreation of a historical beer from 1855.
Tuesday morning Jen took off for Salt Lake City leaving me with the two mostly-recovered babies who I brought to day care before going to work.
I had to leave work around 3:30 PM to pick them up when they told me Martin had a fever again. He was over the croup so either they measured his temperature wrong or he was teething. At any rate I had to pick them both up and would have to return with a note clearing him to return to day care. This was, of course, after his fever had been gone for twenty-four hours meaning that I would need to take the following day off of work as well.
It sure is going to get difficult supporting these babies on no income.
After the most successful dinner in a week and a bath the Wombats played their new favorite game, Door! Door! is a game whereby you must touch the door fro your crib and move it along. The objective is to move the door, squeal, and inflict as much physical harm on your brother as possible for no reason other than your own unbridled zeal.
After I finally got them to bed I treated myself to this veggie burger for dinner. When Jen is on a work trip I have a pretty strict policy of not buying any groceries and simply working my way through our vast reserves. This worked out pretty well as I happened to have a veggie burger and bun in the freezer as well as some assorted accompaniments.
Jen surprised me by leaving some nice beers in one of the drawers with the Wombats' clothes. I didn't think I'd have time to chill this in time to drink it last night but thanks to the guys being particularly stubborn about going to bed I had plenty of time to get this Nomader Wit from Evil Twin Brewing nice and cold to enjoy with dinner.
Luckily Jen had told me to check the drawer and then reminded me otherwise I would have never found them. My exploration into the drawers of the Wombats' dresser is at a fairly remedial level.
I am not the Lewis and Clark of the Wombats' wardrobe.
Today I stayed home with Martin again even though he was perfectly fine. The doctor was extremely annoyed when I brought him in to tell me what I already knew: that he was completely fine. I got the note I needed to return him to day care tomorrow and we were on our merry way.
Martin spent a lot of our time at home today playing the phone game. This is an odd game where he takes a plastic, purple phone and hands it to me. No matter what I do with the phone he just looks at me with a completely serious, unamused face until I give him the phone back. Then he sighs with disappointment and says, "Dada!" and hands me the phone again.
He will do this for hours even though he seems to derive no joy from it whatsoever.
Tonight, while Martin settled down watching Brisco County, Jr. I had this beer while standing in the kitchen and eating a sandwich. After not hearing Martin fuss for a while I returned to find him asleep in front of his favorite television program. I picked him up, carried him to his crib, then took a deep breath of relief.
Only two more days until the cavalry arrives in the form of Jen. Watching two one-year-olds is laughably easy when you receive any form of help.
Maybe I'll even get a chance to use the bathroom when Jen gets home!
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