97° and Humid on the Outside, 103° and Sweet on the Inside

Sunday, we were in the middle of a heat wave. A wear-as-little- as-you-can, splash-in- the-wading-pool- even-if-you- forgot-your- bathing-suit heat wave. And because it was so hot, we were so hot, I almost missed it. Pumpkinpie was hot. Weren't we all? But then I realized she was radiating heat. Feverish, 103-degree heat. In a 97-degree heat wave - before the humidex. Yowza.

We skipped Buttercup's birthday. I felt bad, had wanted to go and show her off to all the blogger ladies (yes, again with the blogger ladies), but I thought we should stick close to home, so we spashed in the front yard instead, gave her tylenol, and went to the doctor's the next morning, still running the fever.

My doctor felt that it was most likely a virus by the name of parvo. Also known as Fifth Disease or Slapped Cheek Disease, so called for the red cheeks that often show up early on in its course (of course, we were so damn hot, I never would have noticed red cheeks). This is one of those childhood diseases. Most kids get it, even if you never really know. Contagious as all get out, it often tears through daycares and kindergartens. Not particularly dangerous if you're not a pregnant woman, it's one of the childhood diseases that you get through, and probably don't have to deal with again. But it did change my view from "I'm sorry we missed Buttercup's party" to "You're welcome, Jana!"

At any rate, I am taking mornings off so Misterpie can get some other things done, as she is out of daycare until at least the tail end of the week. And since we have no real air conditioning, we have been kind of suffering along, eating lunch in the pleasant cool of Tim Horton's, pumping our little window unit and fan combo hard to push cool air through to Pumpkinpie's room, taking cool baths, and splashing in any water we can find. And then last night promised rain and a cooling. A much needed cooling.

It began to storm, lightning and high winds pushing that cool air mass in and throwing the branches of the old trees in our neighbourhood about with wild abandon. Right off the trees, in several cases. Knocking down power lines, demolishing cars, and blocking roads. And taking out the power to our entire area - including our air conditioner and fan. Pumpkinpie's fever spiked high right about then, despite the tylenol I fumbled into the general vicinity of her mouth under cover of the enforced blackout. She woke, feverish, upset about the lack of nightlight or fan noise, crying to be held in the dark. I rocked her, smoothing a cold cloth of water over her limbs, face, and belly, and spoke softly to her, holding her head close to my mouth, shhh, mommy's here. I'm right here. It'll be okay.

While it cooled outside, it was still stifling in the house, despite the windows I had thrown open. We moved a futon onto the deck under the stars and the three of us curled up in the corner. Pumpkinpie was not so sure about this new arrangement. I could see the trepidation on her face, feel her tension in her tiny, overheated little body, but she quickly threw herself into grandma mode.

She tucked herself into a ball, butt in the air, and patted the futon beside her. "You come here." She gave me one of her doggies, "A doggy a you, mommy." I nudged my head into the space alongside her and she wrapped her arm around my neck, tight. "I'm right here," she whispered to me through her teeth, clenching her sucker in place. She patted and rubbed my back a few times, asked me if I needed a sucker too, "A sucky a you, mommy?" Then she rolled, tucking her arm under my neck so that my head rested against hers, my arm wrapped around her. We lay like two lovers, her comforting and drawing comfort at once as she asked me what various noises were and I listened for evidence that we might be joined by marauding raccoons, knowing how power outages sometimes lead to rioting and looting by roving gangs. Some time later she fell asleep, snuggled safely under the open sky between her father and I. At three, it began to rain lightly, but the storm had passed, the house was cooler, and so was her forehead, for a time.