Operation Bore My Son to Tears

is not going well.

Today is Henry's third day home sick from school. On Monday he insisted that he didn't feel well but all I could hear was "I want to play with my new birthday toys." He slipped that into his tirade regarding his various symptoms but I heard it, all right. I had him all figured out! So I dragged him there, insisted that he was fine despite his loud protestations, pried his little fingers off of me, and made a run for it. Two hours later his teacher called me. He had a fever. And was crying about ear pain when he coughed. Nice job, crappy mommy.

Once I got him home, of course he cheered right up, and spent the rest of the day playing with his brand new toys. There was nary a word about his supposed ear pain. Could a child elevate his internal body temperature, just out of an obsessive need for Legos? I suspected so.

The next day Henry was as bouncy and cheery as ever, but then I took his temperature, and damn it all, he still had a fever. A small one. Could I pump him full of Motrin and send him off? I considered it, Internet. My heart is a little smaller than a raisin. But in the end, I did not, which was a good thing, because two hours later he turned all gray and glassy-eyed and his temperature shot up to 115 or something. Okay, it was 104. Every time Henry gets sick his temperature goes up to 104. I find this somehow laudatory, because I never seem to get fevers anywhere near that high, and I remember being little and sick and miserable and wanting some impressive number that would elicit the sympathy of those around me. So here he is with 104, and I'm scared but also kind of want to high-five him. You are seriously sick, dude! Score!

Off we went to the doctor, and got some antibiotics. That part's not interesting. Actually none of this is. But this is all I have. So you just sit down and keep reading.

All of this brings us to today, Day 3 of sick leave. He's clearly better, but I wanted to play it safe, not bring him back to school only to have his teacher call to say he's still sick and p.s. you're a worse mom than we thought, and that's saying a lot. At the same time I hated the idea of keeping him at home, not just because he never stops talking ALTHOUGH THAT'S CERTAINLY PART OF IT, but because he's resisting school these days, and I don't want to reinforce that with another Super Day of School-Free Fun.

This newfound hatred of school is hard to comprehend in my child, who last year would weep like I had smothered his puppy if I told him he couldn't go to school. Who I'm sure told his teacher that he didn't want to go home because his cruel parents didn't love him like she could, and he should probably just live at the school, subsisting on graham crackers and apple juice and sleeping on the bean bag in the reading nook.

Now every morning includes at least fifteen minutes of weeping over the horrors of school, how the playground is stupid and all the kids are babies and the teachers are idiots. Because this year we can walk to his school, we get to enjoy a Bataan Death March each day, except worse. Because at least at the end of the Bataan Death march the survivors weren't forced to play in a stupid playground. And eat pretzels for snacktime.

So I'm trying to make this, our Last Sick Day, as un-fun as possible, but the kid's still enjoying himself, damn it. This morning he played with his new Play-Doh Fun Pak while I typed in the next room, first darkly announcing that I couldn't play with him because I had important work to do. (Read: I was emailing my friends.) "That's fine!" he sang, and proceeded to bounce in and out of the room, handing me intricate Play-Doh desserts and declaring that I deserved them because I'm the best mother there ever was.

"Soon," I growled, "we have to run errands," and he told me that errands are his favorite thing to do, as long as he can do them with me, because I'm his best friend. Wha? We went to the supermarket and he expressed fascination with every item on my list. Romano cheese, he informed me, smells fantastic. He shoved it against his nose and breathed in deep, beaming at me. He's either the best liar ever, or there's a hallucinogen mixed in with his antibiotics.

When we got home he asked to go to the playground, and inside I cackled with glee, my raisiny heart shrinking even further into the recesses of my chest cavity. "If you're home sick you can't go to the playground," I explained, and waited for the tears. Surely this would make school seem more palatable! Ho ho! "That's okay," he smiled. "I don't mind playing inside." And then he offered to help me unpack the groceries.

Next up: I introduce him to the vacuum. Even if he's still cheerful, hell, at least I have a clean floor.

Comments

[Rivetergirl]

Who's Patrick? Did I miss something or am I slow?

[babelbabe]

My mom always let us stay home sick. Sometimes even when we weren't. (It helped that I was a straight-A student.) I HATED school, and thank God she let me stay home. Of course, this was in high school - no idea what she did when we were little.

I don't think it was that she was so tenderhearted, but that she didn't have the energy to argue with us.

[Tracy27]

It's your domestic duty to wring every last bit of willing drudgery out of the kid while this feverish compliance lasts.

104 is impressive, poor wee Henry. High temperature was practically my only Sick Day ticket as a kid; I still get pathetically annoyed when I'm achy and the thermometer doesn't register a big, Officially Sick number to validate my suffering.

[Vanda]

After the nth time my daught had elevated her temp, I made her to stay in bed resting for the entire time school was in session. No books, no tv, no fun snacks,no toys, nothing but resting for all the damn day she stopped doing it.

[Kirsten]

Official Delurking Day delurk done :)

That being said, when we stayed home sick *which happened so rarely that I seem to have journalled about it in 3rd grade*, we were 'in bed'. Not allowed to play with toys, not allowed to get up for more than an hour to watch tv, which usually consisted of The Price Is Right or Family Feud, we were fed soup and crackers, and then back to bed we went. Only it lasted for longer than school hours. If we were sick, we were sick for the entire day. Up for meals after school time only, and to go to the bathroom.

The time I journalled about, apparently I rested in bed with my myriad of fairy tale books and listened to Nat King Cole christmas albums on my record player. In March. I was weird like that.

[betsy]

"I would have to be decapitated for me to be able to stay home sick when I was a kid"...

BWAH ha ha ha!! Us too. (My parents ran a small-town weekly newspaper, and if one of them had to stay home with us, there was no one to pick up the slack.) The school nurse knew my mom's office number by heart.

However, until reading this entry (well, becoming a mom myself and reading this) it never occurred to me that my parents might feel any 'bad mom' embarrassment, or guilt, or anything except annoyance around these things. Hummmph.

[Thursday's Child]

I faked sick once. O-N-C-E. I had to help clean the house, go to the bank, visit old ladies from the church at the nursing home, etc. My mom knew I wasn't sick, so she wanted to make sure I never did it again, and it worked.

So, keep up the good work, there! Get creative; Henry's got to hate something!

[Gretchen]

Delurking here, just to post that, as usual, you've made me have to clean diet coke out of my keyboard. Again.

Must ... only ... drink ... water ... while ... reading ... Alice ...

If anyone wants to give me bonus points for participating in Delurk Day and visit my blog, it's http://mind-flush.blogspot.com . Love to see you there, even if I'm not as funny as finslippy (although I'm trying, but with a 2-year-old I've got more limited material).

[DM]

I stayed home a lot when I was younger but not because I wanted. Other than 6th and 7th grade, I really loved school. There were books there! And a library! About the only way I would stop complaining about having to stay home with bronchitis is if my mother brought the sofa cushions in so I could prop myself up and read. Yeah, I was kind of a dork.

If he finds that he loves the vacuum, will you send him over here? I hate cleaning.

[BrooklynGirl]

God help me, but my 2 year old LOVES the vacuum.

[DidiG]

LOL youre so funny and smart and good :)

[craige]

I sure would like to see what a puss-filled eye looks like. How do you fit a puss in your eye anyway? Even kittens would probably be too big. I'm sorry. But the image cracked me up.

My mother was one of those who would not let me out of bed if I was sick. You sick? You rest.

[Annika]

You people with kids who like the vacuum cleaner are killing me. My son goes into hysterics if he spots it out of the closet. He certainly won't go anywhere near its closet, and will refuse to enter a room if I've left it out. HE RUNS AWAY FROM IT. He cries and shrieks and generally makes it known that the vacuum is his enemy. It is very hard to pretend to be a good housewife when I can't clean the floor, let me tell you.

[elise]

I used to think some other thing you said was the best line ever, but I was wrong. Because this: "p.s. you're a worse mom than we thought, and that's saying a lot." is.

[Lisa C.]

I switched to night shift as of Monday (Oct 1) and my son started full time day care the same day. My husband takes care of him at night, and I drop him off and pick him up at day care. While he is at day care I sleep.

As is the case with most parents who work opposite shifts, I don't always get all the information from the previous day. Tonight, right before I left for work, my son threw up. It was during this time that my husband informed me that he threw up yesterday, too. Um. So technically he should not go to school tomorrow.

But he is having such a hard time adjusting, I think I will have to send him as long as he seems OK. I will feed him bland foods for breakfast, take him, and cross all my body parts.

I, too, am a horrible mother.

[ferd]

Antibiotics are effective against viral infections?

[alice]

Nope, but they're effective against bacterial infections! Which is what he had.

[Nicole]

My son, too, has suddenly decided that school is a terrible place and he can't face the day without me because he misses me so. Never mind that he's been going to some variation of most-of-the-day care since he was a year old. He's now 4, and I'm confused.

[All Adither]

Anti-B's are the best invention since Natural Glow Face Daily Moisturizer. Oh, and little boxes of raisins.

[lizneust]

Ack - this has already started with my 3.5 year old and day care. Also, the constant attempts at redirection - she needs a different pair of shoes, she wants pony tails, she has to go potty one more time, etc., etc., etc. I was kinda hoping it was a phase, but maybe I should look into the boredom theory. Ergh...

[Joe ROMANO]

I think I'm offended. Nope, I'm not, I just stink.

[bluepaolo]

heh. I am very impressed that you not only referenced the Bataan Death March, but spelled it correctly. For extra points, be sure to pronounce it properly - Bata-an.

[tori]

lol~ my 7 year old tells me every other day how much he hates school. He has decided he will attempt to be sick on a weekly basis, now he tells me he has a breathing problem and can't walk so I should keep him home~ HAHAHAHA (won't work on me buddy) to school you go little man see ya when I see ya!

[Mngirl]

ltlbird... you are the reason why my kids get sick at daycare! Follow the 24 hour rule.. you must, or I will go insane having to stay at home with *my* kids~!

[lis]

There must be books about how to actually make him like the kids at school better than you so he wants to go there. But those are probably the anti-parenting books. I don't know where they sell those.

Alice! Your Blog Rocks! But your masthead scares me. It's the truth.