This entry is being sponsored by pictures from Daniel's costume shop.
I know, I've been sort of quiet this week, except for my post about Prince. There's a reason for that.
After Prince passed, Josie and I faced the prospect of telling the kids. That was actually an agonizing decision: to we tell them before, and allow them the chance to say a final goodbye, or tell them after the fact?
In desperation, I called my mother. Her advice was to do us all a favor and say our final goodbyes, and simply tell the kids that Prince was really sick in the morning, we took him to the hospital, and he passed away that afternoon. Not a lie, more of a big picture on the exact details. My mom was always good at covering things over, remember. When my grandmother's boyfriend, Wendy passed, when I was eleven, she informed all the kids that Nana's boyfriend had moved to California. Which, I suppose, is something like a death.
Telling Ashes, as I expected, was quirky. She just sort of smiled, and didn't cry at all. Just took it in. She did say "NO!" at first, but that was it. Annie, when she was told, burst in to tears.
But Theo was the worst.
He had been stressing about this for a week. He was staying up nights, worried, and finally throwing up in the toilet. The minute we told him, he let out a huge scream and threw himself under the pillows. And then, a few seconds later, he ran to throw up.
At first, we thought it was just stress related, but as it turns out, Theo had picked up an insidious, evil, horrible flu strain. For the next 24 hours, he spent his life clutching his stomach in pain, or throwing up in the toilet (sometimes missing). A couple of times, it came out the other end in his sleep.
So I spent all day Tuesday looking after him--and Ashes, who picked it up at four in the morning. What's more, I realized that in the excitement of Monday, I left my script in Warwick, and still had to block six pages. At six in the morning on Tuesday, after a night filled with getting up every thirty minutes to help the kids, I drove to work to pick up my script and finish up blocking.
Wednesday night, with the kids still feeling like crap, I started to catch it, and spent the entire evening worshiping at the porcelain throne. I still had three pages of blocking to take care of Thursday night, and I was able to get through it by throwing up, then running to the couch to start the blocking, because I somehow felt a bit better after barfing, for maybe twenty minutes.
I tried to drag myself into work on Thursday, with zero hours sleep, because I had a big meeting planned, but just as the meeting began, I received a call from school. Theo was throwing up again. Could I pick him up?
I canceled the meeting at the last minute. Besides, as my bud David mentioned, did I really want to give everyone at the meeting what I had?
Anyway, I've never been so grateful for a week to pass in my life. I'm looking forward to a weekend filled with absolutely nothing.