Wednesday, November 15, 2006

We Made It Three Days...

I really thought that my baby was germ-proof at this point. Don't ask me why I'm that naive, but I figured with him regularly letting the dogs lick his tongue, playing with weird kids at the McDonalds' playland, having been Mr. Popular for six months where he attended a lot of playdates, attending an in-home daycare one day a week for the past nine months and well, just generally living with parents who would rather set their hair on fire than become neat freaks, that the only thing he hadn't been exposed to was ebola.

Little Man has hardly ever been sick during his short life, and I figured that wouldn't change with daycare.

On Monday afternoon, I noticed that Little Man had a cough. I wasn't concerned. People cough.

But yesterday, I come to pick him up from daycare and there's an ominous sign on the door that states "This class has 1 confirmed case of RSV."

You might as well have told me that the plague was back. I rushed home to look through my What To Expect the Toddler Years and was relieved to find that RSV for a 14-month old is really like a cross between the flu and a cold. Nothing too serious.

That was until the first yellow poop.

Now this may be a coincidence, but Monday's school theme was yellow. And so they did arts and crafts with yellow stuff. And Little Man is a lot like Ralphie on the Simpsons, where he likes to eat art supplies. So this may explain the yellow pooping. But combined with the coughing and then combined with a fever of 101 this morning and well, my whole world goes dark.

This is my third official day at work. I don't feel like I can call in because my Little Man is sick. Which freaking sucks. Luckily, Sweetie Pie can easily take off working for himself, so he's staying at home with the munchkin, and we're just waiting to hear from the pediatrician to find out if we need to bring him in.

Right now I'd love nothing more than to be in my pajamas, holding my Little Man in his little pajamas smelling the top of his head while reading him the same book over and over again, while he clutches his toy frog.

Never before has my baby been so sick, and now I don't get to be there for it. I know that there will be many things that I'll miss out on, being a working mom. And I know that the guilt of not always being there for him could eat me alive if I let it. But my path has been chosen, and now, I must do the best I can with the situation and hope that my kids grow up to be well-balanced adults who never doubt how much I've loved them.

Love,

Catwoman.

2 comments:

Emma in Canada said...

Is it terrible of me to say I love my kids when they are sick? They are so bloody pleasant to be around. Especially my oldest, who when she was 3 didn't even wake us up to tell us she had been sick and even cleaned up her own puke.

Hope he feels better quickly.

random_mommy said...

You MUST stop calling your kid Ralphie!!!! It makes me laugh TOO FREAKING HARD!!!