Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Quit playing with my nutcracker...
David, my middle kid, woke up grumpy for the second day in a row today. He grumbled while he got dressed. He grumbled while he got his shoes on. He grumbled over to the door. He opened the front door and gagged and hurled on my porch stoop.
I said, "Come here."
Checking his forehead, he was burning up. I guess this wasn't surprising. David is my even tempered kid most of the time. When he erupts into temper, it is explosive but as a general rule, he is my even keel kid.
"I guess we are staying home today."
"What! Why? I can't miss school! I just spit." This was said at a decibel intended to shatter my eardrums and make me agree out of frustration.
"Well, you are sick, buddy."
"No! I can't miss school!" His shriek was followed by him pitching his bookbag into the nearest corner. "I have band today! I have been looking forward to this all week!"
With this positive start to our day, I proceeded in calling the sitter, the school, the doctor and texting my best friend with the news.
David continued to walk like a dark cloud around my house. I dosed him with ibuprofen. Ashton sniffled with the cold and cough that has been plaguing him for days, and since we were going to the doc anyway, I scheduled him an appointment as well.
When the time rolled around to haul the boys to town, David looked me up and down.
"You aren't going to the doctor dressed like THAT, are you, Mom?"
Me- "Why, David?"
"Ummm... you don't look as pretty as you could..."
Me, "Why, thanks, Dave."
Obediently, since apparently I was being judged, I ran a brush through my hair and changed my outfit. *grumble me. If I am not working, I should be allowed not to brush my hair and wear pajama pants. I think there is a rule somewhere... Or perhaps I lack basic hygiene... whatever. I am a writer. No one can SEE us.*
Shuffling off to Doc Pirate, we waited our turn and then sat with him in the office.
Doc Pirate, "David, your lungs sound clear."
Me, "So Ashton's didn't?"
Doc Pirate, "Umm, no. His are full of fluid. Bronchitis or pneumonia."
Fanfreakingtastic. The kid I thought wasn't very sick is about an inch out of lying in a hospital bed (Ash has asthma and upper respiratory kicks his butt. We have at least one hospital stay a year which is how he found the chick button... what he calls the nurse call button. In a previous post I mentioned he loves the button because he presses it and another girl will come in... So when he is in the hospital, I have to take his button away or else it is a constant stream of nurses... so Ash can look at them.) and the kid I was freaking out over has a 24-48 hour flu. Once his fever is gone, he is better. Ash... different story. We wait for the antibiotics to do their work.
So off we went. Collected meds. Now back home.
I have WORK backed up and a job to go to and instead I am on Mommy detail. So there I was, grumpy at a day that has gone down the proverbial pooper shoot and David looks at me from the couch. He is scowling back at me.
"You are ruining my week. I had plans."
I burst into laughter. It was so close to why I was scowling, it is like he is reading my mind. Aside from that, I am amused that an eleven year old has PLANS.
"Really?" I ask.
"I had band and you made me miss BOTH days."
"Well then you shouldn't get sick."
"I tried." He flops his hands in frustration. "I tried to act okay. You are the one who has to go and take my temperature!"
Still laughing at the silliness of it all, I ask, "So what would you have me do? Let you get sicker?"
"You don't get it, Mom. There are times in life when a man just has to work through being sick. There are times, like days when I have band, that I can't miss. Now, if you wanted to call me off on Friday, okay. We can work with that. But band days? Mom, you can't just go and do this to me."
I pulled him into a hug and said, "I love you, my Davey Jones."
Sighing heavily, he hugged back. "I love you, too. Just don't do this too often."
"I will try. But when you are sick, I gotta take care of you."
"I guess that is okay. Sometimes. But do I get to play video games?"
Ah. Men. Priorities in order. All is well. And Justice has drunk all of the juice off my pickles.
Just another day in the barn.
at 3:02 PM