24/52

June 17, 2015




Twenty four.  That is how many weeks I've been at this 52 portraits project of Piper.  Teeth have been added, hair has grown and curled, walking has been accomplished but not routinely practiced - progress does not thrill her.  She smiles a lot and says "Hi Dada" to anybody who isn't actually looking at her ;)
 
Man Colds vs Women Colds:
 
These past few days I have been sick and I get the male version of every sickness.  Oh you know, its like downloading different versions of an app.  There is the one for free and then the premium one.  The free version, like a woman getting a cold, comes with its niggly annoyances although it does technically function as advertized.  But the premium version with all its bells and whistles is precisely what its like to get the male versions of sicknesses.  The $1.99 cold is much more dramatic, severe, and emotionally -and physically- debilitating illness requiring tender affection, attention and most of all: relief of any and all duties.  Poor suckers with a Cold (free) need only sniff, pop an advil and carry around a few tissues for our extra excretions.  After all, we ladies are just used to dealing with our bodies being jerks to us.  Free version females couldn't possibly require lots of horizontal time and many, many favors requested with ample whimpers and moans.  Actually, scratch that, there are requests... but from other people.  If you're sick, though, kind family members will ask you extra nicely to do stuff... because you're sick. 

I was having none of this. 

If I was expected to be the sweet, gentle and kind cooler of feverish brows; well, the gesture must be reciprocated.  My brows need be tended, my croaky whimpers must be heard, hot beverages need be offered to me and horizontal positions encouraged. The sick person is the tiny kitten who needs to be loved and nurtured back to health.  Its that way for everyone over here.  Piper gets it, Reece gets it, and even little old me gets it.  Because mom's aren't an endless tap of nourishment, favors and health.  We are people who feel just as gross as dads and kids and everyone else does. 
So I protested.  
Equal brow cooling!  Equal baby talk! Votes for women! 
And it worked.
Yes, my house is pretty messy now that nothing has been done in a few days.  But I'm better and I'll catch up.  (Laundry is drying as we speak)  But at least I was able to convalesce in peace without feeling like a snotty-nosed slave girl.  Save for wiping the nose of my little co-patient every so often and providing some food made in slow cooking facilities, I rested and lavished the cup of soup Reece bought me at 10:30pm one night.

PS: My new website is up!  Check out Charity Sarah Photo and Film and watch this space for the whole story soon!

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