Monday September 22, 2008

Best Part of the Day-

"Coaching" the 4 and 5 year-olds in soccer.  All was well tonight (as Miss S. was sickie, so no sassiness from high heaven...)  It was a really great and fun practice.  The parents were video-taping and snapping pics and at the end the kids were bummed that it was time to leave.  "I can't wait a whole week to see you, Coach Megan!" the tiniest of 5 year-old boys cried.   I will see you next week, my good listenin' soccer Sweets.  

Worst Part of the Day-

Whoa is me.  (Whoa is you, too, after you read this.  I'm sorra...)

Scarlet awoke at 5 am with the high ass fever again so I scrambled to find her bus company # and called to say she wouldn't be making it to school.  I then called the school and left a similar message.  I had to wait until 8:30 to call her doc (who is on maternity leave) so I made an appt with her doc's partner for 11:30am.  

After seeing the doc we all agreed that this looks pretty much like a bad, bad virus as of course S. was mildly chipper and talkative in the office.  She fell asleep immediately in the car on the way home.  I gave her soup for lunch and Motrin and headed to work straight away at 1pm to prep/teach my class until 5pm.  From 5:15 to 6:45 I did the soccer thing.  7pm-10pm was doctor rounds at work.  I called Will-O three times throughout the eve to check in on S. as I was really concerned and wanted an update on eating, hydrating and Motrin administration, but his phone turned off.  On my way home shortly after 10pm I called again to see if there was anything I could pick up for the patient--no answer, phone off.  

I walked in the home and immediately checked on S. and she was burning hot under her covers. I woke W. and asked when she last had Motrin.  He says he didn't give it.  He says she didn't eat much and hardly drank anything.  He says he is surprised I didn't bring home popsicles.  (How was I to know she wasn't drinking any of the 5 kinds of juice in the fridge for the 8 hours I was gone?  Call me.  Turn on your phone.  Give the med I've been talking about constantly...)  

As I am getting ready for bed S. starts crying and I pick her up and carry her into my bed she says "my stomach..." and proceeds to throw up all over me (I really don't mind) and the bed (mmmmm).  I clean her, change jammies, take temp, give Motrin, give sips of Gatorade, help brush her teeth and put her back down.  I throw in a load of delicious laundry and sit down to exhale and Will-O asks "Where were you this whole time, anyway?"   I was too stunned to speak.  (Ice pick, are you near me?  I will use you...) 

Hmmm.  Where I was did not have any sleeping in until 9, napping, retiring early and forgetting to give Motrin at the 6-8 hour mark.  It had a whole lot of non-eating, non-sitting, while calling, caring, nursing, working, volunteering, more working and cleaning.  Where I was was more doable than where I am now--(frustrated!) and not because of any kids puking straight down my back or in the crevices of my bed.  Ice pick?!*

Happy B-Day to Miss Mol!!!  (Need yo address...)  Missing you already!  How are we so elderly?