It's been 45 days in the year 2025. And in many ways, it feels like an eternity. Even the past seven days feels like a year. I looked back this morning at the events of January and February trying to recall, what exactly just happened?
Here goes ...
Day 1. Made the New Years Pretzel. Must have burned the yeast because it didn't rise properly. Played tennis badly. Went to the Oyster Bar. Drank my last glass of wine for a while.
Day 2-4. Relished time with the kids. Skied with them. Played tennis better. Really wanted a glass of wine but stuck to my word.
Days 5-17. After making a New Years resolution to travel less, I went to Chicago, Knoxville and Greenville TN, Cincinatti and Columbus, OH and Orlando in the period of 12 days.
Day 10 - 21. A slow roll of norovirus descended upon our house. Peter moved garbage cans around and around and washed sheets over and over again until the Norovirus finally caught him. Because of my aforementioned travel schedule, I avoided the January cleanse.
Day 11. I made a nice dinner. Nice dinners are situated in the dining room. The kids finished and went upstairs with explicit instructions to stay away from the kid du jour with the virus. With relative silence at our nice dinner table, Peter's ears perked up and he asked me what that sound was? The fire crackling, I don't know, I responded. Oh, there's no fire going. I get up and start walking into the living room. Sounds like a drip, said Peter. Oh ... oh .... no .... it is a drip. Lots of drips, Peter! Cue the ceiling to start raining and then pouring water into the living room. Fear, unrest, and Caroline in panic mode commences. We find the culprit - a broken toilet, running and running without the ability to drain. Broken by a twin who must have been frustrated flushing her norovirus. Peter turns off the water and fixes it. He explains to me how to do it in the future. I don't recall what he's said because I'm calculating what fixing the living room will cost.
Dawn of Day 12. Peter falls asleep in the living room still cleaning up the mess.
Day 13. Peter gets bids on fixing everything.
Day 20. Notre Dame plays Ohio State in the National Championship. I cheer. The kids cheer. A fly buzzes around the screen, then another one. The flies are cheering for the Irish too, huh? I go to the bathroom and there are one, no two, no three more flies. Or maybe the ones from the office followed me into the bathroom. Bobby says, nope there are flies in my bathroom too. What? Were you going to tell anyone that? I run upstairs and see more flies. I nudge Peter, halfway through getting the twins to sleep. We have a problem. Third floor bathroom. His ears perk up. What, you're kidding me ... another bathroom issue? Not the same as the last one - this one is flies. Flies? Yes, flies. He investigates after another nudge. I close the door to the office and resume watching the Irish, while swatting flies. Peter comes back down. I got him. What ... Got the flies? No, the flying squirrel. What? Yes, critter control couldn't get it. But I did. He's dead. The flies were attracted to the smell. It smelled awful. He's gone now. Flies will follow.
Day 21. Kill flies. Trump takes office. Caroline won't go to sleep.
Day 22. Kill less flies. Trump. Caroline won't go to sleep again.
Day 23. Kill the last fly. Already too much Trump. Bobby's birthday. Kind of feels like an afterthought and I feel bad about that.
Day 24. Bobby's National Parks Play at school. I cried. It was perfect.
Day 25- 45. Deep Trump anxiety sets in, set off by a bad habit of bathing myself in NPR and the Daily every morning.
Day 28. Peter decides to add a lighting renovation to the scope of the living room reconstruction.
Day 30 - 37. Back to Chicago. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Day 32. Construction starts on living room. Wine. Yum.
Day 34. RSV hits home.
Day 37. I get home, Jacqueline has a high fever.
Day 38. RSV complications for Jacqueline. Peter and I don't sleep.
Day 39. No sleep again.
Day 40. RSV complications get even more complicated. Peter takes Jacqueline to the Children's Hospital clinic. I fill in for Peter as the kids' squash coach, telling Bobby to focus mid match. Post match, I get a call from Peter saying Jacqueline was sent to the emergency room. I'm crying. Our friends keep the kids and feed them at the club. I run home and pack stuff for Peter and Jacqueline. I run to the hospital. And start crying. But Dr. Cramer is there. Dr. Cramer from Canada is amazing. Like seriously amazing. He rescues Jacqueline with oxygen, an IV, antibiotics and her pneumonia diagnosis. I breathe easier too. Peter stays the night and I go home to provide normalcy to the kids. I make myself a homemade Egg McMuffin for dinner. It's as good as the ones my restaurants make.
Day 41. Healthy kids go to school. I relieve Peter from the hospital to stay with Jacqueline. She is doing much better and by midday is stable, without oxygen. That evening we go home.
Day 42. Caroline gets RSV. Margaret gets an ear infection. No sleep again.
Day 43. Caroline is better from RSV. She's always been the bulkier one. Paid off for her.
Day 44. I get 8 hours of sleep and wake up a new woman.
Day 45. Still Trump. And my period.
It was on Day 39 though, where time stood still. Further drawing out just how long the past 45 days has felt. I was in the emergency room looking at Peter, Jacqueline on his lap, saying goodbye for the night, not totally sure if she would be okay. And I said to Peter, 'thank you for being such a good dad.' We both teared up. Maybe because of how painful it was to see Jacqueline in such torment. But maybe more because it took me 39 days of crazy to say that.
Peter and I run a unique operation. It's a lot. And during flu season, it can become too much. So much, that I reached a breaking point this week. I told the President of my business that I couldn't be there for his visit to my region. Instead, he was in good hands with my team. And he was. My team killed it. And with it, I showed up as a leader who has her priorities straight, who has a well-trained team, and who has confidence in her people. It was the most leaderly decision I've made in this position.
On Day 44 we celebrated Valentine's Day. I got Peter some really good shoes. Because sometimes, I'm sure he gets tired of walking in the shoes of a stay-at-home Dad. But my man, there is no one that can clean up puke, swat flies, fix plumbing, trap critters, find the best workman for the job, pack lunches and snacks, administer antibiotics, ease my Trump anxiety, read bedtime stories, navigate a hospital system and drive a minivan like you.
I'll say it again, thank you for being such a good Dad, Peter.
Lo.
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