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So my Wednesday didn’t go as planned.
The Princess was feeling better and off to school (yay!). And we completely avoided the “I’m going to miss you” drama before Aunt Emmy picked her up. (Again, yay!)
Now normally on Wednesday, I would get myself in to some kind of condition that doesn’t scream “I just rolled out of bed and threw on this ball cap.” My girl has already forbid me from eating lunch with her at school….I don’t want to completely embarrass her by looking like…..well….like I look every other day of the week.
But something just didn’t go right yesterday morning. I couldn’t get myself together. Maybe it was because I didn’t get a second cup of coffee. Maybe it was because I spent too much time on Pinterest searching for Cookie Monster birthday party ideas for the Monkey’s upcoming celebration. Whatever it was, it forced me to drop the monkey off at school looking like I had just rolled out of bed and put on a ball cap.
So instead of going straight to the Princess’ school, I had to go back home and DO SOMETHING to myself. Pair of jeans, blah henley and a ponytail. Much better. Oy.
Being at home gives me issues. As in I don’t want to leave. The peace. And the quiet. And the peace. And I really had a ton of computer work to do….not to mention I need to have my stuff together to go see the tax lady in a couple weeks and the best I can hope for in that situation is that a wave of panic sets in about a week from now and I actually get it together before it’s too late.
So I’m “working” and NOT perusing Pinterest when I realize the morning has just flown by. All of a sudden it’s lunch time and I’m starving. And The Young and the Restless comes on just as I’m about to decide to go on to school and eat later.
(Not that I watch Y & R. Just FYI. For your benefit.)
So I stuff down a sandwich and run out the door.
I go to the Princess’ room first to deliver a Sonic drink to her teacher. Yes, I am THAT parent.
(The awesome kind.)
Except that her teacher is not there. So I ask the substitute, “Do you like Diet Coke? Easy ice??”
And that, my friends, is winning the substitute lottery.
My phone is ringing while I’m in Fin’s classroom, but I don’t answer it…..I’m trying to get out of there without making the Princess “sad” that I’m leaving, but still give the appropriate amount of attention so as not to harbor feelings of neglect.
(I think about this stuff way too much.)
I check my phone on my way to my volunteer classroom. It’s Monkey’s school. I call the school and sure enough. My baby has a fever and isn’t “acting like himself.”
(I don’t believe I want to know what “like himself” usually entails. I’d rather just stay in the dark.)
My poor little Monkey. He just looks up at me with those feverish eyes and saunters over for me to pick him up. And you know what I’m thinking…..Mr. Strep strikes again. I immediately call the doctor because, like I said, I’m certain it’s strep. My degree from Momma Knows University comes in handy in these situations.
The cute little nurse calls us back to see the doctor. I fill her in on what’s happening and tell her that it’s strep. She looks a little disappointed and says, “I’m gonna have Dr. G do the swab.” *giggle giggle* And I don’t blame her. That would be reason #478 why I wouldn’t make a good nurse…..sticking giant q-tips down kids throats.
She comes back a minute later looking very dejected. “Dr. G said I have to do it.” I feel like I should say something nice to cheer her up like, “I like your scrubs!” or “Your hair is really cute!”
But all that comes to my mind is, “Do use a Bump-It in that ponytail?” So I just smile and keep my mouth shut and hold Monkey’s hand.
Dr. G comes in a bit later and says, “It’s strep.”
And I say, “OH MY GOSH! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT?? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??”
Not really.
Matching antibiotics for the kiddos. Neat.
The poor little guy fell asleep in the chair, and of course, by the time I wake him up to eat dinner the motrin I had given him earlier in the day has worn off. Man, he was happy. I tried to get some mac and cheese down him, but only had success with some Gatorade and saltines. He looked up at me and said, “I juss wanna lay down the couch.” Awww buddy.
He just laid there, staring blankly at the TV. Until the new dose of motrin kicked in, which became obvious when he yelled out, “Swiper, no swiping! Swiper, NO SWIPING!”
And then it was on. His sister heard his cry and she came right in to play with him.
Oh. My. Goodness.
The power of motrin. The hubby was gone to a “work dinner” so I was left alone with one child energized by two days of being home sick, and one child on a false motrin/amoxicillin high.
Which left me wondering if that kid motrin would do anything at all for me.
rm
