Seriously...I should not be allowed to parent sick kids.
I'm not talking sick kids who are puking or have sore throats or have some real reason for being sick.
I'm talking about the random 103.6 degree fever that shows up on a random Wednesday that threatens to take the child out of camp the next day, therein ruining all my huge plans that I had for myself.
There aren't any other symptoms.
Anyway, fever starts, child refuses to go to party store to prepare for Husband's birthday. That was my first hint.
We go home. I administer Ibu.profen like a good mother.
I think my job is done.
Then it starts...the whining.
What the fucking fuck is it with the whining?
Does it ever really solve anything?
She eats. She plays. She begs to go outside and play with her friends.
She's normal...except for this goddamn fever.
I can't fucking stand it.
Husband comes home and we celebrate his birthday.
She enjoys herself because she gets to have ice cream.
Day is over.
Next day..."Mommy, do I still have a fever?" This lovely creature has actually entered my room, fully dressed, clutching the thermometer.
I jerkily run the thing over her forehead.
It reads 101.8 degrees.
"Mommy, do I still have a fever?"
"Yes, you do...I'm so sorry, but you can't go to camp."
Cue hysterical crying and hair grabbing.
Hair grabbing? That's new.
When she finally calms down (I forget how I did it...I think I blocked that part out), she goes downstairs and she is fine.
Then the boy decides that if she's not going to camp, then he's not going either.
"But you're not sick."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not. You made a commitment to go to this camp for a week and you're going. Plus, I'm not dragging both of you to my hair appointment. They don't want kids there."
Yes, I actually said that. I wanted to punch myself in the face for the "you made a commitment part," but felt kind of bad telling him that they didn't want kids in the salon.
WHAT? You wanted me to LIE???
You know that when you go to get your hair done and a kid walks in you're like, "what the fucking fuck is THAT doing here? And how do we get rid of it???"
Plus, you know that if the boy stays home, they're going to fight the whole damn time and I'm just not in for that today.
So, on the way to camp, while he's hysterically crying in the back seat, I make him call Husband.
It's a last resort. I don't pull that card often, but sometimes he just needs to talk to a dude.
Husband calms him down with promises of Pokemon Rumble later on...dude time.
We drop the boy off and head back to the car.
We go home.
I lay her on the couch with a blanket (as requested) and go about my business telling her "you need to rest."
Two seconds later, I hear these weird grunts. I ignore them.
Four seconds after that, I think I hear her saying "mom," but I ignore that too.
In my life, if I can't hear you, it doesn't count.
About 5 minutes later, I call down and ask if she's talking to me.
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"Why? You're supposed to be resting."
"I can't rest. I don't feel like it."
"What? Why not?"
"I don't know how to lay down in a good way, so I can't rest."
"Okay, well you can use the iPad then."
I go back to organizing the area under my sink.
It looks fabulous by the way. If you're not following me on Instagram, you should be.
Anyway, the day goes by with lots of whining...whining about being bored at the hair salon, whining when we went to pick Matt up from camp because she didn't see her friends for long enough (long enough for what??? To get them all sick??!!??), whining because she didn't like lunch, whining because I only offered one kind of cookie after lunch, whining because she didn't know what to do, etc.
Then the boy got into his own precious set of rare form...that apparently originates in Hell because it is vicious.
She got really good at this point.
A guy came to discuss backyard plans with me and she was attached to me. She wanted me to hold me (no), press her entire self up again me (okay), hold my hand (yes), talk with her while I talked to the guy (no), remain outside the entire time even though she was completely distracting me during a very important first meeting (no).
Maybe I'm mean. Maybe I didn't stop the entire world for her today, but good LORD!!! QUIT THE FUCKING WHINING!!!
As I type this, at 5:44 PM, she is in her room having a shit fit because she got a time out for yelling at me (over the damn iPad...yes, I over tech things when one is sick...sue me).
She is writhing around on the ground. She is screaming "Mommymommymommymommy." She is kicking her legs all over the place. She is sticking her head into her stuffed froggy chair. She is hysterical.
I went up to calm her down and she yelled at me again, so I left.
Why call me in the first place if you were just going to do what got you in trouble in the first place?
So, now we're in the "you can come out when you calm down" mode.
Ugh...I should start dinner.
I hate sick kids.
And again, not the puke sick or sore throat or cold kids...randomly feverish sick kids.