About a week ago, my daughter Reva had a cold. What seemed like an innocent “frog in the throat” manifested into a hoarse cough accompanied by the usual supporting cast members: a runny nose, sneezing, and a sticky, hot forehead. Thank God it was nothing, and she’s better now, but in the heat of the moment, I was so worried.
Watching my toddler with a cold was mildly heart-breaking because she couldn’t help herself. She doesn’t know how to blow her nose, she gets engulfed in the cough every time it comes, and still, all she wants is to go to the park! “Park mommy, park!” She got red in the face every time a cough caught her by surprise.
After a few evening hours of extreme fussing, uncomfortable coughing and all of our shirts stained with snot, I promptly instructed Brandon to sleep on the couch. It was not a suggestion, it was a command. Reva and I would co-sleep, which is something we’ve done twice during the course of her entire life. I am not a crunchy mom and staunchly prefer my own sleeping space.
Brandon suggested that I might be overdoing it, and I was ready to kill him. Didn’t he hear her cough? Didn’t he see how distressed she was? How distressed I was? Of course he did, but I’m convinced that there is some biological reason I felt her frustration more viscerally in my core. He was able to separate his logic from his emotions. “She’s a toddler, she has a cold, she will be fine in a day or two.” I felt myself coming to a boil, not unlike a tea kettle. There was no room for a second opinion in my mind.
I didn’t want to be one inch away from her. I wanted her hot little body next to mine in the bed, mainly to ease my concerns about her wellbeing. I wanted her soft, squishy legs draped over my neck, essentially constricting my airway, just so that I could be close to her. Maybe if I felt worse she would feel better? I wanted her to breathe her sweet, warm and germ-y breath directly onto my face while she lay her head on my chest. I felt like this was the only way to get through the next hours. Intertwined. She grew inside of me for 41 weeks, she is literally an extension of me, and so if she’s sick, then I’m sick too. And don’t you dare try to tell me otherwise.
The next morning I kept her home from camp and we had our first sick day together. I quickly threw some chicken thighs, carrots, celery and onions into the instant pot. Bay leaves, peppercorns and kosher salt joined the party. I boiled noodles. There needed to be soup! Chicken noodle soup, of course. She colored all over her white wooden table (who cares!) and wore pajamas all day. She ate dry, sugary cereal for breakfast. She was the captain now. I called my boss to let him know I wouldn’t be available for the remainder of the day.
We sat on the couch, covered in a thick, fluffy blanket. We watched TV and nibbled on the entire animal kingdom: salty, cheesy goldfish and bland, lemony-vanilla animal crackers. I shoveled the salty snacks in my mouth too quickly. Reva carefully plucked out the animals she liked the best, or should I say… least? Our hands brushed against one other inside of the plastic bucket. I loved the feeling of her buttery soft skin against mine. This suffocating love, adoration, obsession, it must be normal for a mother.
I imagined seeing this moment reflected back at me on a projector someday. A movie montage played at her bat mitzvah of the years that flew by, as everyone says, way too fast. While I wanted my toddler to get better soon, I was also reveling in the mother-daughter-ness of it all. There was no pressure to go anywhere, or see anyone, or do anything remotely educational. I didn’t need to feed her healthy food, or sing the alphabet song. I didn’t need to chase her around the apartment to get her dressed so that we could make it outside. We needed for nothing because together, cocooned under our blankets, we had it all. We were leaning into our sick day, her head on my lap, my fingers stroking her wispy blonde hair.
Of course, now I am paying the price for our interconnectedness. Home in bed, tea cup after tea cup. Soup bowl, after soup bowl, I can no longer look at another bay leaf or peppercorn. I try to drown out whatever bug she has preciously passed on to me, but hey, I can’t blame her. I asked for it.
Eventually, I’ll flush out the toxins, but I’ll hold on tightly to that special afternoon in my memory.
Was it worth it? One million percent.
A Little Recipe For Cheesy Eggs
I discovered a delightful way to enjoy eggs the other day. First, you soft-boil two lovely eggs. Local eggs work best. I prefer a 6.5 minute egg, but I know it varies by brand and size, so do your research. Peel them once they’re ready, and mash them with a fork in a bowl. Add a pat of butter, a sprinkle of salt, and a healthy handful of finely grated sharp cheddar cheese. Spoon this on top of a thick, crunchy piece of toast and top with fresh cracked black pepper and a bit more cheddar. Some herbs won’t hurt, if you’ve got em.
Here are some other things I’m loving this week:
Style
Lug sole loafers are the it-shoe of the moment and I can’t get enough. I got myself these Twinset ones as an early birthday gift.
If you want to make a statement, pair your loafers with these frilly socks.
Another item I have my eye on: organza sleeve blouses. This white one has the prettiest cinched waist and sleeve detail.
Also, gingham everything, especially this flutter-sleeve, high-neck blouse.
I love layering dainty diamond bracelets, and you can’t beat this one for $98.
Food
These Hawaiian chicken tacos sound really good. I am team pineapple on anything (including pizza) so I maybe a little biased…🍍
And another obscure food I love: fried pickles. I don’t own an air-fryer and when Brandon suggested I get one for my birthday I ran, but…. this recipe may sway me 🥒
Take a day off and go to Brighton Beach. Catch some sunshine on the sand. Eat some vareniki. Feel happy as summer comes to a close 🌞
Zucchini butter spaghetti is something I can get behind. 🍝
Very delicious paleo sauce to turn things like chicken or cauliflower into a takeout replacement. Got it on Thrive Market, which you can read more about below.
Baby
More gingham please, especially for the baby swimmers.
How sweet is this animal print zipped footie?
My daughter’s favorite snack is these chicken maple sticks from Thrive Market. I have a whole article on my blog about Thrive if you want to read more.
For the “traveling toddler,” I present you the softest sweat suit.
Oh, and the best kept kids clothing secret is the Jessica Simpson line at Marshall’s. I don’t know why or how but the designs are straight up adorable, and 2-3 piece sets cost $16.99. Please go, and thank me later.
Sending virtual (snot-free) hugs
Jane
Absolutely freaking love your Newsletter and the format!!! I wish I were a mom