Wednesday, September 3, 2008

The Mystery Ailment


Our home is full of secret and mystery. In fact, I just learned this myself over the last little while. I mean, I did suspect something. But I could have never imagined the truth until I found it out for myself.

Apparently, the city water gets additives put in it that come in to our homes. I don’t know if it is a derivative of something else, or if it’s intentional. But it’s the only explanation I have for everything in my house. And my friends have complained about similar situations in their home, too.

When children are first born, they don’t have enough of – whatever it is – built up in their systems, yet. They are eager to learn and try new things. They enjoy independence and strive to make their own way.

However, as the children age, a build up of this – stuff – (which I will call “can’t”) actually penetrates their immune systems and takes hold. Then the “can’t” runs rampant in their bodies, getting worse with age.

My son, Keith, had a nasty break out of it this morning. I asked him to go get his allergy medicine, and he looked at me blankly. I pushed a little harder. Finally, he responded, “I can’t.”

I was curious about this break out. I couldn’t pin point the catalyst for it. So, I started investigating.

“Why ‘can’t’ you?” I queried.

Keith made his eyes big, splayed his hands out, pulled his shoulders up to his ears and said, “I don’t know where it is.”

“Oh, that’s easy to fix,” I sighed with relief. Maybe the cure was easy enough… “It’s in the cabinet, honey. Why don’t you get it, please?”

“I can’t,” he repeated. Oh my. A relapse so quickly…

“Why?” I asked.

“I can’t reach,” he explained.

“Really?” I asked, surprised. Keith is almost as tall as I am. “Huh,” I puzzled as I reached up in the cabinet and pulled out the medicine.

“Well, here you go,” I handed it to him and resumed my lunch-making project.

“Can you get me some milk?” Keith asked, still holding the bottle of allergy medicine.

“Well, I’m working on your lunch. Can you get yourself some, please?”

“I can’t,” he replied, assuming the same stance as before. Wow. This little virus just does not give up, does it?
“Why, honey?” I asked.

“I don’t have a glass,” he said, playing with the bottle.

“Can you please get one?” I asked, smearing peanut butter across a piece of bread.

“I can’t reach,” Keith complained again.

“There’s some in the dishwasher. The dishes are clean,” I responded, gesturing with my peanut butter-laden knife.

“I can’t pour my milk,” Keith continued.

“Why?” I asked, sort of exasperated.

“It’s too heavy,” he replied.

Deep, heavy sigh. “Okay, here you go,” I said as I whipped out a glass, slung in some milk and stuffed the carton back in the refrigerator.

Hubby came down stairs.

“Honey, can you get me the stuff off of the printer in the office?” he called as he strode across the den.

“Me?” I asked, since I was standing on the other side of the house from the office, and he had just passed the office.

“Yeah,” he said, with a tone that said, “DUH.”

“Well, I’m fixing the kids’ lunches. Could you grab it?”

“I can’t,” he replied. “I’m running late.”

I threw the sandwich into the baggie, into the lunch box, zipped the lunch box, set it by the back pack and walked quickly to the office. There was no paper on the printer.

“Honey, it’s not here,” I called.

“Oh. Can you print it out again for me?”

“What is it?”

“That letter we talked about.”

“Okay. Could you print it out while I brush Emma’s hair? Then I’ll bring it out to you?” I asked.

“I can’t. I have to leave right now,” he said, rushed.

“Okay,” I sighed. This bug was completely out of control. It had taken over my entire family!

Amy climbed up in my lap while I was trying to find the document on the computer.

“Amy, please get down so mommy can get this for daddy,” I asked.

“I can’t,” Amy replied.

“Yes, you can. And I need you to put on your shoes, please,” I countered.

“No, I can’t. Will you help me?”

“As soon as I finish printing this off for daddy.”

Gracious day and stars and ketchup! Is there no relief from this awful “can’t” virus??? Is there no cure???

Apparently, the virus is pretty wide-spread and affects almost every area of everyday living. It makes children unable to take baths, brush their teeth, clean their rooms, put dirty clothes in the dirty clothes hamper, eat their vegetables, clear the table, finish their homework, mow the grass, turn off the television when asked, write thank you notes, and the list goes on and on.

It makes husbands unable to complete simply household chores*. (*Note: sometimes a strain of “can’t” comes along that allows hubby to do the chores, but makes him unable to restrain himself from telling you what a hard job it was and how much you should appreciate it.) It makes husbands unable to work a phone to call you back, sort out whites and colors for the washing machine, watch TV without holding the remote control at all times, or go into Lowe’s or Home Depot without purchasing a minimum of $30.00. It also makes them unable to pay a service repair man for the initial problem, therefore costing much more when he comes to fix that problem, plus any that hubby added trying to “fix” it.

From what I can tell, the only person(s) immune to this virus is mom. Mostly because, like any other illness, we just don’t have time for it! There have also been rare cases of dads who are able to remain resistant.

I would bring this to the medical community’s attention, but I’m afraid they would end up naming the virus after us, as they usually do for all new discoveries- good and bad. At the same time, though, I hate to be responsible for a delay in the discovery of the cure.

But, alas, I seem to have not washed my hands enough after being around the kids and hubby. Why, you ask? Well… because I can’t…

1 comment:

Mawme Dearest said...

Ha Ha...you captured what every mother thinks and fears the most, the "I can't" virus...LOVE it!