Okay, yeah, there is a lot of crap that goes along with being a Fancy Wife. But there are a lot of great things too. The best part? No, it’s no the travel. No, no, not the fabulous restaurants. Uh huh, I actually find ironing therapeutic. I don’t do it, but I always could if I felt like it. The best part is what happened this morning.
The Fancies had a fabulous weekend even though The Princess was running a little fever and acting appropriately pathetic when the mood suited her. A little Nurofen fixed her right up and we even made a trip to the Mall, like Regular Folk. H and I ate out every night, and I even read a book while the girls were out with Nanny #2. But all that fun must have caught up with me.
Somewhere around 2am, the baby monitor came to life. I stumbled down the 2 flights of stairs, comforted The Princess and headed back. 45 seconds later, she began sadly whimpering once again. Accepting my fate for what it was, I took my pillow down with me and settled us both in the guest room. The rest of the night was a bit of a horror show, complete with weird smells (her), vomiting (her), sudden nausea (me), more vomiting (me!) and other unmentionable bathroom experiences.
In the morning I was awakened by a very chirpy Princess sitting there looking at me inquisitively. I could barely open my eyes, let alone say anything to her. I just stared back. And then suddenly (yes this is it! This is the moment where Fancy is Fabulous!) Nanny #1 appeared. She took one look at me and said, “Go upstairs.” I guess I didn’t look very Fancy.
“We had a rough night.”
“I can see that.”
“The Princess had a fever all weekend. I think she threw up in her bed. I’m not sure.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. You should really go to bed.”
I got halfway up the stairs when I remembered breakfast.
“We’re out of milk,” I called down the hall.
“I saw that. We’re going to Starbucks. Please go to bed.”
And that is where I am. I don’t look Fancy, I don’t feel Fancy, but in this moment I am so unbelievably grateful for being Fancy.
Oh, poor you. I'm sending you virtual (and virtuous) chicken broth over the blogosphere. Be a good girl and try not to let it escape from either end!
ReplyDeleteOh I envy you the Fancy-ness of your life. I could really do with a cleaner here in Chez Dishevelled...if only to pick up the carrion the cats keep bringing in...
I *almost* feel sorry for you and your fancy nannies. Almost. Get better!
ReplyDeleteThat's fancy. And jammy. Less fancy people then have to struggle through a day of childcare / work / housework / all three. Pah. I hope you're better soon.
ReplyDeleteI had sick kids too this weekend. I'm trying not to hate you. Trying...trying...nope - I hate you.
ReplyDeleteI *almost* feel sorry for you and your fancy nannies. Almost. Get better!
ReplyDelete