All day long, I’ve been hearing moaning, lamenting, a bit of whining, and some whimpering about a sore throat. And lots and lots of “suck the mucus back up into the nose” sounds…all coming from my 11yo. Lovely…and not at all what I want to hear a week before Christmas.
I want to hear Christmas Music…my favorites only, please…and maybe some others. NOT the ones I hate.
Yes, I of course feel badly for my child…no one wants their child to be sick. But mostly I don’t want to hear these sounds because he’s the first one to get it, which means it’s only a matter of time before the rest of us might be down for the count.
I can’t be down for the count. I don’t have time for such silliness. But the others might. Grrrr. I don’t have time for that silliness either. There is a reason God did not make me a nurse.
Anyway, I felt so terrible for him this morning that I even let him wear sweats all day. That’s a big deal, I’ll tell you what. We don’t typically do that here at the PBA; I don’t rightly know why except we just don’t. I mean, I love to wear my jammies all day (IF I’m not going anywhere…some people wear them wherever they go, but I haven’t succumbed to that temptation yet. OK, it’s not really a temptation but still. I have not done it, just for the record. The closest I have come to that is wearing them out to get the newspaper or the mail. And for me that is crossing the line a little bit.
But wearing sweats all day seems to say, “Yeah, I’ve put on a few pounds but these frumpy, shapeless clothes I’m wearing hide it pretty well, don’t you think? No one will be the wiser.”
Jammies, however, just say “Yeah, I am beat down and tired and I don’t want to leave my house again until tomorrow. MAYBE I’ll leave tomorrow.”
See…totally different messages. You can see why I stick to these hard and fast rules. I run a tight ship, for sure.
However, much to his chagrin, I wasn’t so light on the workload and the expectations. “You can be a little more comfortable but you still have work to do.” I want to get my “Meanest Mom of the Year” award…I’m in the running again this year!
We did most of our work first thing this morning, and then headed to the gym. While we were there, I didn’t make him run the laps and sprints he usually has to do. No, I’m not a big meanie – I just want him to stay some semblance of in shape for soccer in the spring. I have gone into a soccer season not in shape like I should have been and believe you me…it’s not as fun as it sounds. I am trying to keep him from that if at all possible.
Anyway, he didn’t have to run, but he did have to keep moving. He and his brother played some basketball and practiced their shots. Not any laborious cardio work for sure, but still…he was moving. I was trying to be somewhat lenient without letting him see that I was being a little soft.
When we left the gym, he looked completely exhausted, but it was only mid-morning. I ignored my guilt about pushing him and we kept on moving. On to the pediatrician to have my 9yo’s thumb looked at. That child is a picker. And apparently had been picking at a hang-nail. Long-story short, he showed my mom his nasty, pus-filled thumb on Friday night so we’ve been trying to manage it ever since…soaking with Epsom salt, keeping antibiotic ointment on it, poked a hole in it to try to drain it.
By this morning, the thumb was yup…still oozey; it was draining out the hole I had poked in it, as well as all along the side of the nail. So gross. Again, let me remind my audience: There is a reason God did not make me a nurse.
But fortunately I got through to the pediatrician’s office on the second try, and finagled an appointment for late morning. So after finishing some work, we went to the gym and then on to the pediatrician. He took one look at my son’s thumb and he said, “Dude, you’ve got an infection. I think that’s going to need some antibiotics.”
Yup, it was as I suspected. I’m no Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman but I know an infected finger when I see it. But at least we got in and got it taken care of. I’m so thankful to live in a country where I can still get quality medical care easily for my children. Not that this was a traumatic issue by any means, but could have been if not treated in a somewhat timely manner. I would hate to amputate it because of a hangnail. But I digress. I had a “sick” child I was also dealing with, and was telling you about. I’m certain you’re in rapt attention now.
So after the doctor’s office, we dropped off the script (no time to wait!) at CVS (not my favorite CVS but it’s one that will do in a pinch…I don’t know what it says about me that I have a FAVORITE CVS when they are a dime a dozen around here. But I do…so there.) and went to grab a quick lunch at home before heading off to our homeschool co-op.
My 11yo’s class didn’t meet today (some classes did and some did not), but the 9yo’s did. The 11yo reluctantly went and worked the study hall with me (we had ZERO kiddos in there for the last hour…that was so fun!). All I heard for the two hours we were there were moans and complaints about a sore throat. I gave him an ibuprofen and told him to put his head down to take a little nap. All together now: There is a reason God did not make me a nurse. Giving sympathy to the sick…not really my thing. Don’t judge.
The whole thing came to a head (at least in my mind it did) when he asked if he had drum lesson today because of his throat. I kind of gave him a sideways glance and paused a moment before I answered. “You think you shouldn’t have drum lesson because your throat hurts?”
“Well…” I suspect hearing the ridiculousness of it helped him process it better.
“Yes, I think you can make it through a 30 minute lesson.”
Sorry dude, I’m not canceling your lesson because your throat hurts. I mean, I’m SORRY that your throat hurts but I am not going to cancel your lesson. I think you can muddle through. So then lesson was where we went after co-op.
And then after lessons, we went back to CVS to pick up the script for the 9yo. I’m slightly out of sequence here…we’d actually gone BEFORE the lesson because I had specified a 2 o’clock pick-up but by 2:45, they hadn’t gotten to it. There are apparently many people out there in need of a script. And they were all waiting at the CVS pharmacy to pick them up.
So when we went back AFTER lesson, the script was ready but I went through the drive-through. Sure, it used more gas, but it’s either use more gas or exponentially increase the chances of someone in the family bringing home a bug that someone has been so kind to share. I’ll keep to the bubble of my car for as long as I can, thank you very much.
By this point, the 11yo seemed completely miserable and was slowly melting into the back seat. And I was beginning to feel a tinge of guilt creeping up for pushing him through the day. What kind of mother was I? Here he was, really not feeling well and because of the “To-Do” list I thought I had to complete, I had pushed him to exhaustion.
So…I had a couple errands yet to run but I decided to scrap that for the day. No need to push him any further…tomorrow was another day and we would try it again.
We got home and unloaded the car…yes, unloaded. There were bags from the gym, and from co-op (one for each of us), a gift for my 9yo from co-op, a CVS bag (you know…the afore-mentioned script), the bag with the leftover cookies from the Christmas party at co-op, and drums sticks and music, and a guitar. And yes, the PBA assisted with the unload. Such good boys.
After the unload, the PBA knew they still had a few things to do before they could play…as previously noted, the morning had been a bit of a jumble, what with the doctor appointment and all. Plus the late start…the 11yo had trouble getting up this morning. He had a sore throat – did you know about that? Sorry if you missed that memo.
But by the time we got things unloaded this afternoon, and got bags packed for tomorrow and lunches made (yes…another week of pre-made lunches. Can you tell it’s getting close to Christmas?!?), we sat down at about 5 to read our history chapter. This is much later than I prefer but it was what it was…and there are some things I choose not to scrap and attempt on another day. I figured this he could handle…sit and listen to me read.
So we sat down and worked our way through the chapter. When we got to the end and I told my 11yo to hit the shower (yes, it was 5:30 but it was cold and rainy and we were not going anywhere…I already had my jammies on), he looked at me with all the sincerity in the world and said, “I feel a lot better…all that really hurts is my throat.” And away he bounded to take his shower.