We had been up since four. AY EM.
Tony’s ill. Could be ears, could be hand/foot/mouth disease, hell, could be meningitis.
Why is it that the most mundane symptoms could be several things? Ra was having some weird, strong joint pain and swelling last week.. WebMD concluded it was either lupus or menopause. WTF? I know several women who have been through menopause, and never ONCE have I heard them say, “Man, I’m feeling so lupusey today!” And let’s say that you already HAVE lupus.. is menopause just a walk in the park for you? Or twice as horrid?
Anyway, so WebMD delcares my child is either teething or has meningitis. Awesome. All I know is that he only sleeps for an hour at a time, won’t eat, and goes from SO SO HAPPY to I WILL SHAVE YOUR EYEBROWS WHILE YOU SLEEP ANGRY at the blink of an eye. He’s fussy, angry, lethargic, and evil. If he wasn’t so damn cute and cuddly when he was ill, he would be camping out on the curb, waiting for the Gypsy pick-up.
Because I am the multi-tasker, I volunteered to work from home and keep the child at home today if he had a rough night. Which, HA HA, was a curse the minute I uttered it. The child was up every hour, on the hour (a typical night with an ear infection), and then woke up for good at four a.m.
Bryan and I had agreed to wake up at five to start P90x. You know, and that TOTALLY happened.
Then Bryan’s all, “Oh, Jesus, he’s got his foot appointment today, too. At 8:40 a.m.”
Well, that’s just seven shades of disaster waiting to happen, now isn’t it?
I had a meeting at 8:30 that I had to attend, so I had earbuds in both ears as I waddled in to the Orthopedic Center with a overtired and irritable baby on my hip. I had also waddled in to the wrong floor. An elevator trip later, I made my way to the front desk and checked in.
“We need you to update these FIVE FORMS,” the receptionist told me.
“Our insurance is unchanged, as is our address,” I hissed.
“Sorry. Still need them,” she said. Smirking.
As I tried to locate the “kid’s corner” (which basically means there’s a small table and chairs set there), a lady loudly snarked, “Get off the phone lady and mother your child.”
I wrote her off in my mind and set the baby down at the table and chairs. Whatever, bitch. Do you know HOW hard it is to be a working mom? Do you have ANY idea? Do you think I’m just sitting here, chatting with my girlfriends? Well, I’m NOT. I’m WORKING. And..
“Mrs. Comer? You can come get your insurance card, please.”
I grabbed Tony’s hand and we again made our way across the lobby to the desk, grabbed the card, and began waddling back. The lady still snickered at my ear buds in my ears, me constantly fumbling to hit Mute and Unmute to still participate in this call. I CAN DO THIS, I thought. I can.
We made our way back to our bags, me stopping long enough to Unmute and get my card-holder out of the diaper bag, and I hear a sudden !GASP! from the guy next to me. And my child, my sick child, had mounted the child-size chair and promptly fallen off. Face first. But, luckily, he broke his fall. WITH HIS NOSE. On the concrete. MUTE.
Now, my child is around two years old. And a boy. If you knew how many times a day he falls down, you’d wonder why I need to exercise, since I spend 80% of any given day hefting 28 lbs of child off the ground to a standing position. So I, Mother of the Year, say, “Yes, you fell down, you’re fine” while hoisting him to a standing position and starting to Unmute again to comment on the conversation at hand..
And his mouth/nose/FACE is gushing blood. Blood. BLOOD EVERYWHERE.
And all eyes are on me, the mother who could not get off the phone to mother her child.
I felt the dissection. I knew they were all hating me, HARD, for letting that sweet little boy obey the laws of gravity in the (literal) amount of time it took me to turn from him to my purse. I wanted to die. Instead, I scooped him up, used his bib to soak up the never-ending, bright crimson liquids pouring from his head, and hauled ass to the lobby’s bathroom. He, obviously, is WAILING.
Until we get in there. We close the door, and he’s all, “Down?” It looks like he busted his lip and broke a blood vessel in his nose. (Lesson learned: tampons do NOT fit up an infant’s nose.) After cleaning him up and hiding the blood-stained bib in my pocket, we headed back out into the throng of people all worried about That Poor Child with the Abusive Mom.
So, for all of the mothers I’ve judged while out, the ones I’ve rolled my eyes at and said, “Well, I would NEVER..”: I APOLOGIZE. Because not “I never”; I DID. And if just one mom had walked up to me to check on him and said, “My son used to injure himself ALL the time..”? I might’ve just offered to clean her house out of appreciation.
What a nightmare! But I can so relate. I’ve worked at home with sick child many times, but I’ve never had one swan drive while I was conference calling at the docs — that deserves a multitasking prize of some sort.
LORI
Ugh. So sorry that the day was full of Suck and Judgement. I HATE those looks… particularly during days like the one you just described.
I find it somewhat hard to believe that the Drive-By Parents couldn’t notice it was a WORK call. Those conversations sound distinctly different from “OMG, you’ll never believe…” (not that you’re an OMG-er).
Hope that he’s feeling better soon… that picture you posted to Twitter just killed me. Poor little guy.
bessie.viola´s last blog ..Saturday… in the park… I think it was the 4th of July
[...] Sarah threw him off a chair at the doctor’s office and tried to break his nose…but that’s [...]
I cannot believe a woman said that to you. I am so glad I don’t have to work, although I probably should, but I cannot imagine how hard it would be to work full time and be a mom. Clearly, you were mothering your child since you took him to the doctor!
Jessica´s last blog ..And Back We Go
Gah! Im so sorry! Im sorry he’s sick but has nothing the Dr will treat- Im sorry your not sleeping, Im sorry you had to try and be in a meeting and a Dr appt at the same time. Im sorry for all of it. Im sorry you didnt kick that bitch in the throat, too. But glad you didnt. I hope it gets better soon.
From your last tweet I’d be considering benadryl and booze- you can pick who gets what. Good Luck!
Christina´s last blog ..Seven
Oh gosh. (((((hugs)))))
I am not a working mom. And honestly. I could not do it. I have been there done that sort of thing, but really as a SAHM, does that really count?
I am a big believer in not judging. It takes a lot for me to judge another mom. I would have been the one to say, yes, my son hit his tooth on the coffee table (with 4 adults watching) and displaced his tooth and ripped his frenulum, and asked if I could help.
I swear my kids are the reason I drink.
Hope he is feeling better as I type this.
Jo-Ann´s last blog ..A Quick Update
Oh god. If I had a nickle for every time Sean and Molly took a header that gushed blood I’d have their ivy league college paid for. It happens. And that mother that was so judging probably hasn’t let that child walk more than 5 feet since it was born.
I’m having issues with overprotective parents right now, so excuse my rejudging the judgers.
Michael´s last blog ..A kayak conspiracy
Honey, I feel your pain. Erin stood up in the cart while I was grabbing something in B.J.’s when she was about Tony’s age and promptly flipped herself out and SLAMMED her head into the concrete floor. Yep I felt like Mother of the Freakin Year. Had to go to the doctor’s office pronto. She was fine-he’ll be fine. Tell the lady in the corner to go f**k herself. You’re a great mom and it’s the hardest thing in the world to be a working one. We are Goddesses!!!!!
You know me–how could my kids *NOT* be klutzes? Both Girl and OlderBoy stay covered in bruises and scratches. Oh, and Girl has an allergic reaction to almost all band-aids, so her wounds are surrounded by additional red, irritated skin.
I’d love to list all the various things that look horrible but have not hurt my children, but then the Parent Police would come for me. (Okay, just one: OlderBoy was running away, testing me. One quick pop to the head to let him know I didn’t approve–which then knocked him off balance (he’s got a head that measures in the 90th percentile or so, so not hard) and dropped him to the ground. People look at me and mutter. Then Girl says “It’s okay, he never means to hurt us when he hits us.” I have never hightailed it out of Wal-Mart so quickly.)
Oh honey, I don’t even know what to say. You are an amazing mother, on the best and worst days.
Gena Wilhite´s last blog ..Scared, excited, tired, worried, stressed, uplifted, hopeful, proud