The worst part about being sick

with the pink eye, aside, aside from the Superbad references, is that I can’t have physical contact with my son.  I can’t hold him, cuddle with him, hold his hand, play with him, stomp on ants with him.  It tears me apart.  Last night, Izzy brought him home and he brought him into my bedroom, where I’m officially holed up and quarantined, and Nate raised his arms up, towards me and said “Mama, mama” and started walking towards me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pick him up because if I touched him, and then he touched his eyes, he could get my pink eye because it’s really contagious. And so Izzy picked him up and brought him out of the room and he just started wailing and this morning, he wouldn’t even attempt to come over to me. I was really, really upset.

I have a new review of The Weight of Heaven by Thrity Umrigar here.


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