Sick Days

So I guess it was either bound to happen or I totally jinxed myself. Just a couple of weeks ago I was high-fiving my coworker because I made it to March with no sick days - me or the kids!  All of my personal/sick days were demolished by maternity leave. Message to employers: A great baby gift would be 5 sick days exclusively for mommy to stay home with sick kids. Every hour I am working for you is an hour my kids are surviving the sneezes, coughs, and snot of the under 4 crowd.  I'm just sayin' it would be nice to not be penalized pay when I stay home to take care of them when they get viral infections. (It's always viral, isn't it? "Just wait it out, do what you're doing with the Tylenol. Nothing else we can do here." Those are the words I dread second most to a chronic disease. Viral infection. Ew.)

Um, so that was SO  not the intended slant of the "Sick Days" post. I cringe to imagine what my coworkers without kids think I must be doing when I have to stay home to take care of my sick baby. I cringe because I'm pretty sure in my young, single, carefree days I imagined crisp jammies, Starbucks in hand, fluffy blankets, soft candlit living room and cuddles with a perfect pink baby. Oh -- and my hand glued to my remote sifting through all the delicious rom coms On Demand.

Reality Check. Sick Days are more like momma and baby outfit changes due to any of the following: throw up, snotty wipes, overflowing mama milk (weaning, owwww!), or amoxicillin spit up. There is no time to load up the sick baby and busy toddler just to whip by Starbucks for a Grande Nonfat Mocha Light Whip. The cell phone is glued to my hand waiting for the clock to hit 7:30 so I can do the mad dial to score an early appointment with our regular pediatrician. I dial too early and get the voicemail a couple of times, mentally damning myself because I'm having flashbacks to the mad dial that was registration for my college classes each semester. Anxiety is pumping through my veins just remembering the stress. Hearing each busy signal meant that I was losing ground in fitness electives. Yoga. Pilates. Line Dancing. Full, full, full. Bowling. Raquetball. Swimming. Full, full, full.  Fencing. Full. General Health and Fit. Open.  Ugh!

No, sick days are far from luxurious. Getting to the doctor in the pouring rain 8:30am rush hour was insane.  We finally make it in and to our room to wait for the Dr, and toddler boy has to pee. For real? I mean, "Yay! Thanks for telling me you have to go potty. Lets go!"  As he wanders through the office maze to the bathrooms, forgetting his purpose with each step, I keep rushing him in the nicest voice possible. Holding sick infant, trying to help toddler onto the potty I caught a glimpse of myself in the  mirror.  I looked like some S&M over-tired frizzball. I had on my cute new black rain boots, skinny jeans, and men's Urban Outfitters t-shirt. What the hell was I thinking? Why are there no toddler sized potties in the PEDIATRICIAN'S OFFICE?!

So after the check up, we head to Tar-Jay to pick up the script and some necesseties. In torrential rain. Worst 2 minutes of my life getting the kids out of the car and into Target. It was a little therapeutic to get some shopping done while we waited for the meds to be made. We made it home just in time for lunch time for all 3 of us. 3 meals cooked later I put the kids down for naps. (Simultaneous nappage = bonus! Ohhh...or time to do laundry and clean the kitchen.)

By the time they woke up and got cuddles it was time to make dinner and start baths. And then run back up to work to make sub plans for another sick day tomorrow. Come home, finish laundry, eat my dinner and head to bed.
Whew!!!
Crazy crazy sick day.