Don't nominate me for Mother-of-the-Year anytime soon.
Just last week I was telling my friend, my friend with the sickly kids, just how healthy my kids are. You know that kinda talk always comes back to bite you in the ass.
Jacob came home from school on Monday and laid (lain, lay??) on the couch which is totally out of his ADD character. I checked him over for sore throats and chicken pox, both of which are going around his classroom, and just passed him off for getting a cold and left him at that. Then next morning he was bouncing off the walls yet his temperature was around 101 most of the day and he had no pain of any kind. Okay. Must have a virus, I told myself and let him veg in front of the television playing Game Boy most of the day. Since he still had a fever at 8:00 Tuesday evening, I made plans to keep him home another day because we all know the 24 hour fever rule. So on Wednesday he woke up at 98.3 degrees and claiming healthiness, so when they all started driving me crazy by noon, we all went out for a while. We ate out, we bought party supplies, we went pants shopping for my little Noahs, and rounded out the day at the library touching every book and toy in the place. Loads of sloppy, snotty fun we had. On the way home Jacob started screaming, no screeching, that his head hurt and maybe his ears and his throat might hurt a little and while I was lecturing him about how he'd already missed two days of school and the caterwauling wasn't going to earn him another day, I looked back and his eyes were all red and his face was all white and he was full-out weeping about how bad he hurt.
Once I got him home he collapsed on the couch while I took his temperature...102.3.
It was 5:30 so I'd missed my chance to take him to the pediatrician. All I had was a bottle of Motrin, some tap water, and an old VHS Star Wars video to get me through the night.
So off to the doctor we went this morning even though he had no fever and was back to his old, full of life self. Sure enough, he has strep throat. Figures.
I am that mother who takes her kid out sick to spread his germs among the masses. If you live in Houston, don't touch the library books. Or the Legos at Carters. Or any of the toys at Kohls. And just to be safe, avoid the McDonalds as well.
But Adam should be a-ok since he drank half a bottle of the child-resitant capped Motrin last night.
Oh yeah, I'm good at this mothering thing.
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