X-Man has a fever. Despite Mac’s best efforts, cowbell is
NOT helping. Cinco just turned a year old, which means it was this time a year
ago that X-Man began trying to squeeze as many ear infections as possible into
one month. Yet again, his nose is pouring and his breathing is uneven and his
eyes are teary. I am wondering if the poor boy has the worst allergies ever.
I had to determine how high his fever was. I don’t like to
give medication until it reaches a certain temperature, just because. I had to
take his temperature under his arm. This isn’t my first choice, but as my
thermometer that takes readings on the temple has grown legs and walked off. I
don’t blame it. But I was reduced to shoving an old school--well not that old
the read out is still digital--thermometer under his arm. X-Man denounced this
violation of his human rights loudly and with prejudice. I considered informing
him of another way to gauge his internal temperature, but the amount of effort
he put into trying to remove the thermometer from his armpit convinced me to
leave well enough alone.
The boy is sick and laying in my lap. Although he is not a
small child, he is a snuggle bug….especially when not feeling well.
Ah Easter. The mix of candy and outside play seems like a
good one. What better way to burn off the sugar? But it also brings interesting
moments of dread. Like when you discover your potty training son’s dirty jeans
on the floor of the bathroom. Covered in dirty, there was an alarming crusty,
yucky something all over the seat of them. I cringed and investigated further,
only to determine that X-Man had sat on and melted a large quantity of
chocolate. My relief was quickly replaced by horror….”did he sit and ruin his chocolate rabbit? That was good quality
chocolate there! What a waste!” At least I didn’t attempt to salvage any of
the squished chocolate. Although it had been that kind of day.
Today I was THAT mom. My son walked into his swimming
lessons wearing only his swimming trunks and rubber rain boots. Both were wise
choices, he was going swimming and it was raining. However, that’s not
typically the image I like to project to the general public. It wasn’t due to
lack of trying. I told Mac to get ready for swimming. I was trying to get
dinner prepped and kids settled and heard Mac head out to the car. I was
pleased that he was down with the drill. I hopped in the car and took off. I
strongly recommend checking your children’s appearance in the rearview mirror
BEFORE pulling out of the driveway. Otherwise you find yourself walking into a
public building with your son, bare chested with dinosaur rain boots on his
feet. And I was surprisingly ambivalent about it.
Most parents were too busy caring for their own children to
seem to notice. However one mother did cast a disapproving look my way. I met
her eyes and said “It’s earth day. We’re
reducing our laundry needs.”
Go ahead. Judge me now.
That's how we go to swimming. Except we go barefoot.
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