Vomitorium 2013

When I picked Jamie up from preschool yesterday, he was in “loaner” clothing, something that is NOT a good sign.  Loaner clothes can mean a variety of things, of course: diaper changes didn’t happen frequently enough, so they leaked; breakfast, lunch, and/or snacks were particularly gooey that day; the kids played outside in the mud; or, the dreaded, “he’s been vomiting for the past forty-five minutes, but we didn’t call you because we knew you were on your way anyhow.”  Guess which one happened yesterday?

 

He toddled over to me, all sad eyes, and promptly started gagging when I picked him up.  I did that mom thing, where you put your hand out to catch the barf because you don’t really want it all over your clothes.  When he was done, though, the poor kid just snuffled his pukey face right into my shoulder anyway, so what was originally not a laundry day turned into a several-loads day.

 

He threw up a few times over the course of the evening, each time preceded by several seconds by a volcanic rumbling I could hear from across the room and then a coughy-gagging noise.  But he ate food at dinner and kept drinking water, so even when he woke up to vomit around midnight, I didn’t get too worried.  Since last summer, I’m a bit more paranoid about dehydration than other symptoms of illness.  Indeed, this morning he was mostly fine.

 

And therein lay the dilemma: do I take him to school or keep him home?  It’s a difficult thing for working parents, and I know that I have it better than most.  I can take either of my children into work at any time, do what I need to do, and go home.  My hours at the helm of the business accounts aren’t recorded or judged.  I have a job to do, and yes, I need to be present most of the time to take care of daily management needs, but as long as I get the bills paid on time, I can stay home with a sick kid.  Not everyone is so fortunate.

 

But it’s not easy to keep one of my babies home.  Working remotely stresses me out, and when I miss work, I miss work.  Tasks pile up on my desk, issues go unresolved, I feel less than fulfilled for the day.  I would, as most working moms would, love to spend more time with my kids, but I hate feeling pulled in two (or more) different directions.  Work is important to me.  And my children love school.  They love the attention, they love the social interaction, and they love the structure.

 

I ultimately decided to take Jamie to school.  He was happy this morning, running around, yelling at the garbage truck, eating his breakfast and feeding bits to the dog.  Perhaps I made the wrong decision, but I assured the preschool teachers that they should call me the instant he seems to be feeling ill again.

 

 

Here’s hoping it was just a twelve-hour bug.  And here’s hoping none of the rest of us get it.