Right about now, I should be getting near whatever suburb my husband’s family reunion is in. I should be crammed into a car with my husband, wee ones and in-laws.
After all, this family reunion was a big deal. My SIL isn’t going (she went to the Michigan game instead), and my FIL’s plan is to write her out of the will — not that they have much to leave, but this is the attitude towards the family reunion. Lucky for me, it just so happened to fall on the one weekend this college football season when Northwestern has a bye. Otherwise, we’d probably also be written out of the will.
Wait, I said should, didn’t I?
We aren’t there. In fact, we’re at home. Both the wee ones are napping, and I’m making myself some lunch (yes, I know it’s 2:49 but when you’ve been sick for awhile, sometimes you forget about meals since you don’t eat much anymore) while watching some football.
That doesn’t sound like I’m about to arrive at a family reunion somewhere in southern Illinois (don’t ask, I truly don’t know where) in about ten minutes, does it? It doesn’t sound like we got in the car at 5:30 last night to drive six hours down to St Louis either. Or like we’ve spent the morning with my in-laws.
Yep, it’s been one of those weeks, but this was all my husband’s call. Skipping the family reunion of your spouse’s family is not really the decision you want to be in charge of, and luckily I didn’t have to be.
On Tuesday, Mister Man’s nurse at school called me at 3:36. Since school ends for him at 3:30 (technically 3:40 but since they want the kids on the buses pulling out at 3:40 it now ends at 3:30 — no further comments from me on that), I wasn’t too concerned and figured she was calling to tell me that he had fallen or someone had scratched him or whatever.
Not so much. He had managed to puke all over the hallway, and they (understandably) don’t send kids home on the bus after they’ve thrown up. I was stuck in a traffic jam trying to get to my house by 4 when his bus would normally drop him off. North of my house. The school is about 25 minutes southwest of my house. Luckily, my husband was able to go pick him up.
Mister Man continued not feeling well the rest of the week, and he hasn’t been to school or daycare since. It hasn’t really been anything too bad. He wasn’t throwing up, he just had a really low grade fever, and the biggest problem seemed to be that he was coughing a bunch, which wore him out.
On Tuesday night / Wednesday morning around 3am, Little Miss woke up crying. Yep, she started vomiting (phew — thankfully Daddy was around and able to take care of her so I didn’t have to keep my gag reflex forcibly in check) and had a 103 degree fever. Perfect timing, really, right?
Needless to say, Little Miss also stayed home on Wednesday and Thursday, but she seemed to perk back up. Usually I’m most worried about her since she only weighs 26 pounds (at 3) and she’s had pneumonia twice so we know these things go to her lungs. Oddly enough, she’s totally fine. In fact, I sent her to school yesterday and swim lessons today.
The biggest issue was really going to be the reunion. Even though Little Miss seems to be on the mend enough to do some things, riding in the car for six hours there and back knowing they each get carsick wasn’t really something I was looking forward to.
Plus, my in-laws live in a tiny ranch house with paper thin walls. And they stay up late at night. And never turn off the tv. And are partly deaf. And there are no beds for the wee ones. You can see where I’m going here on the sleep thing, right? Yeah.
The reunion was scheduled for 3pm, an hour from my in-laws’ house. That means no nap for either wee one. And with it just starting at 3, I don’t see my in-laws being willing to leave at 5 or 5:30 so we could get home for a decent night’s sleep.
Fortunately, this also worried my husband enough that he called his parents yesterday morning to tell them we weren’t able to come. So far as I know, we’re still in the will. With Mister Man’s birthday next Saturday, they were also planning to celebrate it with us (retired folk drive up here to visit us? Surely you jest!) this weekend.
This morning, our decision to not go was validated.
I awoke to Mister Man in his bedroom screaming for MOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY! Knowing what was likely coming, I sent Daddy. I made the right call. Mister Man was again ill but was able to make it to the bathroom.
Once finished, he wanted to come rest with me and snuggle — which I have never let him do since I was nursing. After an hour or so, he was ready for a piece of toast, which he ate with his head on the table. He then requested permission to go back to bed. About twenty minutes later, he screamed and ran to the bathroom. This time he made it to the bathroom but didn’t get the toilet lid up in time.
Now, I’m not a mom who takes her kids to the doctor in situations like this usually. I’ve gone too often before and paid the lovely co-pay and been told there’s no problem. And I’ve been sent home with my face burning in shame over my panic.
However, I vaguely remembered that my doctor had an acute illness clinic before regular hours M-F and mornings on Saturday. I called to verify, only to discover that the acute illness clinic apparently doesn’t start until November 1. Bummer.
Since I’d gotten that far, I decided to leave a page for the doctor to get someone’s opinion. Thirty seconds later, my phone rang. I spoke to the doctor who suggested bringing him in. I sort of gave a quizzical response, and she informed me that they have an acute illness clinic from 8-11 on Saturdays and it was only 8:42. Huh. Apparently the voicemail message needs to be updated, but I’m good with that.
I felt sort of silly taking him, since he actually was willing to walk into the doctor’s office — versus me carrying him up and down the stairs the past couple days. The doctor saw us within about three minutes and …
he has bronchitis.
Whoops. Now I feel like a bad mom. How long has he had this (ok, more days than necessary, which is really all that matters, right?), and why didn’t I go on Wednesday or Thursday or Friday? Poor kid! No wonder he was so punked out.
Needless to say, I’m feeling really validated by our decision to not head down to St Louis, even though I tried to get the wee ones to make a video to send to their grandparents saying they were sorry they couldn’t come and hoped to see them soon. My husband wouldn’t let me send it though since they didn’t look sick on the video.
So who’s placing bets that Little Miss, who has had pneumonia twice (and yes, we have our own nebulizer) will end up with it working its way to her chest now? I know which way I’m leaning.
I am sort of sad that I won’t be able to meet “all the hillbilly folks” as my husband described them. Only six other people attending the reunion had I met before, so this would have been interesting one way or the other. I had been planning to bring my camera, too! Next time.