I woke up Tuesday knowing something just wasn't right, and after spending a few hours trying to run errands and work, I gave up and took myself to the doctor, where I got some high-powered antibiotics to wipe out the sinus infection. I was home Wednesday, and went back to work Thursday, easing into the rhythm of things, making headway. Back in the office after class, I see there are four messages on my cell phone.
Nobody ever calls my cell phone. Thoughts immediately turn to disaster. Eric. The kids.
Oh boy.
Turns out Nolie has a 102 temperature and is hot and fussy, and her care provider couldn't get a hold of me and Eric couldn't and he had to get her to the doctor and also get Addie picked up and could I please help where are you?
Everybody's fine, of course. I rushed home to find Nolie laughing in her high chair, shoving mac n cheese down her throat. The ear infections (in both ears, the little over-achiever) aren't even that bad, the doctor doesn't want to give antibiotics right away, thinks tylenol will take care of it. This sounds totally dubious to me (she's not even a doctor, she's a PA, but aren't antibiotics overprescribed? But won't they knock the infection out? I'm too tired to know what to do). We'll try it. I interpret the infections as a sign from the gods that we have to wean her off the bottle. I picture the little pools of milk collecting in her throat, fomenting infection in her ears. Silly of me to interpret it this way, but I've got to find someone to blame. Blame and guilt, blame and guilt. The bread and butter of the working mother.
Don't read too much into this. It's just cold and flu season, and there's nothing that puts things to the test like everybody feeling like shit. We feel bad, but we're good, life is good.
It's the germs that suck.
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