My kid is sick and I keep losing things

I got the "your kid is sick" call on Tuesday, about 45 minutes before I was scheduled to leave the office. I dropped everything and headed over to the daycare. I have to say that I do prefer the "your kid is sick" call to the "your kid has head lice" call I got a few weeks ago (it's been three weeks since the last nit sighting, I'm happy to report). When I got there, my daughter was in the administrator's office, sweaty but shivering. One benefit to her petite stature is that I was able to scoop her up and carry her to the car, a feat not easily done with all second graders. She was out of it all the way home and had me really worried. Her temperature was 104. I gave her some acetaminophen and put her to bed. And then wondered what to do with myself.

P and I scratched our heads over the sudden onset of this illness. Our daughter had attended a field trip that day and had been super excited about it. She fell ill on the way home - I mean, this thing truly hit her like a ton of bricks. We compared notes about how the morning had gone and couldn't specifically recall any sign of illness.  And then we remembered - she had not given us hell that morning. She was actually sort of compliant - got dressed voluntarily, apparently forgot to throw a tantrum, etc. That was our sign and we had missed it.

Now, two days later, she is still under the weather. Her fever goes up and down and she's not eating much. P and I ate a quiet dinner last night. It was weird not having someone ask me for something every 30 seconds while also letting me know that the food I had prepared was (at best) disgusting and (at worst) not fit for human consumption. P stayed home with her yesterday and I stayed home with her today. From what I've been hearing from other parents, there is some nasty bug going around.

So, the week hasn't gone exactly as planned. I made it a little bit worse by losing stuff - stuff I need. Now, once upon a time, I was an organized soul. I knew where things were. I stuck to a schedule. And then a couple of things happened. One, I became a mom and someone else's very survival was solely my responsibility. (Yesterday I asked her father to give her some Tylenol and he was totally baffled as to how much to give her. "Read the package," I said. "WHAT DOES SHE WEIGH?" he bellowed, abject fear in his eyes.) Two . . . well, I guess I don't know what two is - my advanced age, I suppose?

It's scary because my job requires me to be organized. I'm a project manager, so I need to remember and keep track of shit. There are signs that I am losing my mind, though. This week I lost my debit card. This is not the first time. Or even the second. Possibly not even the third. I had to call the bank and cancel it, and am now awaiting a replacement. The nice lady who took my call in India assured me it will be here in a week or so. I also lost my Weight Watchers tracker. This is a small paper booklet that we fat people use to track our food. Everything I ate this week was written in there. I am praying that I accidentally threw it away because the thought of someone finding it makes me feel woozy. The finder would think it belonged to a serial killer. Seriously, the way I scrawled "banana" and "broccoli" in there . . . it looks like I wrote it with my foot. I also lost an earring this week. I have a small bin of single, worried earrings in my bedroom, all just hoping that their mates will turn up somewhere. Oh, and I also lost one of my daughter's headbands when we were at the dog expo last weekend.

At least the weekend is right around the corner. You may see me out and about, trying to pay for stuff with my good looks.

She's been wearing the same nightgown for two days.


Popular posts from this blog

Senior Year: The Bittersweet Lasts

Life is too short for white walls and self-hatred

14 Weeks