Friday, 17 June 2011

Superwoman, Day 4

In all the excitement of Chris being away, starting my new job, wrangling two kids to daycare and back, and house and yard maintenance, I happily added hosting a houseguest whilst caring for a sick kid.

Day 1: As you can imagine, the "new job" bit was a crazy addition to the daily routine (what? no naps?), and the heat wave added a new level of challenge, so when I actually got both kids (dressed and presentable) and myself (quite well put together, if I do say so myself) out of the door and to daycare by 7:59, I was very proud. I got to work by 8:25, and spent the day training, meeting people, writing down everything I heard, getting my building pass,* more training... and was totally drained.

So, by the time I walked the 20 minutes to the daycare, picked up a feverish Ailsa and a cranky, un-napped Vaughn, it was a bit too much. Ailsa had had her 12-month immunizations last week, and I knew this was an expected fever, so I wasn't too worried. She drank lots of milk and water, took bonus cuddles, and went to bed early. Vaughn, however, pushed every button I had (and some new ones, too), and got to go to bed early, too.

As for me, turns out that when I spend a whole day "learning" in the heat, I get migraines. Huh. So, I cleaned the bathroom and kitchen, went to bed early, hoped for the best, and promised to be a better mommy tomorrow.

Day 2: Ailsa wasn't too warm, so off we went to daycare, then to work. A morning full of meetings (trying to understand acronyms and context...ow...), a nice walk to City Hall for the NPSW barbecue, and then another afternoon of process and procedure (and copious note-taking), and I dragged myself through the hazy heat to pick up two kids, one of whom was burning up again.

Ailsa actually fell asleep at the dinner table, and they were both bathed and put down before 7:30. I then did another load of laundry, mowed the lawn, baked a cake, watered the plants, and swept and mopped. Superwoman was in bed by 11:38. Yo.

...but I awoke at 1:40, to the sound of voices. This is not unusual, as my across-the-street neighbours tend to drink a lot and then wax poetic profane on their front porch till the wee hours or till someone calls the police. I peeked out of my window, and there were actually a few guys sitting on what's left of my front lawn, with beer, pizza, and funny cigarettes. Swell. Being cranky, exhausted, and in a nightshirt, I decided that the effort it would take to put on my housecoat, go downstairs, turn off the alarm and open the door to tell them off would not be worth it, especially since, despite my crankiness, the combination of my size and my ducky housecoat is probably not the effective deterrent I'd want.

I drifted in and out of sleep, till my next-door neighbour appeared and told them off, but good. She used her parenting skills to get them to leave. "I'm calling the police in 5...4...3..." - they mouthed back at her, but I was fully awake by now, and had 9-1-1 already on the line, which I informed them through the front window. The police came by less than 2 minutes later.

Ailsa woke up a few times, fussing, sweaty, hot.

Day 3: At 7 am, her fever was still reading 100 under her arm, so I called work, apologized for a poor first-week impression, and took Vaughn to daycare, bringing Feverish Jr home with me. She conked out while I was talking to Telehealth, and napped for a good two hours. During this nap, I cleaned the bathroom again (how are there so many hand- and footprints everywhere again so soon?), and Dave showed up.

With Telehealth's blessing, I loaded Ailsa into the stroller with a lot of milk and water and some good snacks, and we walked to Parliament Hill, through the Market, and all about. Boy, was it hot, but Ailsa was cheerfully lazy, and Dave was a trooper. I created crazy blisters with such a long hot walk in flip flops, but there was nothing to be done about that.

We got back by 3, and Ailsa had a short nap while I prepped my class and Dave watched golf... which made me nap, too. Luckily, Ailsa woke me up in time to go pick up Vaughn. SO, I convinced Dave that she'd be fine with him for 15 minutes, dashed out in my blistered feet to pick up Vaughn, jog-and-strollered him home, just in time to see that our fearless babysitter was already there.

You see, I teach on Thursdays, and when Chris is away, I need to hire a babysitter for the 2 hours that I'll be out of the house. Dave had recommended that he not be the one to babysit them, and I thought I should probably listen to him. So I dashed out again, leaving behind me probably the Most Awkward Situation Ever, taught my class, picked up some bananas, and got home again. Dave was just leaving for a friend's place for the night, so I sponged down the sticky kids, popped them into bed, had a shower, and ate leftover pizza before...oh who knows what I did last night. It probably involved the Mentalist. Oh, and a load of diapers to be washed and folded.

Day 4 (today): I awoke perkily at 5:55; Ailsa was allowed to go to daycare, it was a Friday, Chris was coming home tomorrow, and Vaughn came in to tell me that he had thrown up on his bed.

Sigh.

I called the office (to recap: in 4 days of "work", I have used up 2 of my 5 Family days), gave a thousand apologies for missing my last opportunity for the handover from the woman who I'm replacing, and mopped up Vaughn's bed again.

Ailsa, feeling fine, went to daycare. The Amazing Amanda came to my house to pick her up. The woman is an angel. Pukeasaurus Rex has thrown up 7 times today, but luckily (hardy har), it's been mostly on textiles: the shag rug in his room, his bed, his pillow, the carpeted stairs; twice into a bowl; and once into his v-tech piano. Awesome.

He's still oddly perky between barfs. He's hungry, he's thirsty, he wants to play outside, he wants to show me his jumps. Then, suddenly, bleaaahhhh...followed by a little self-pity, then hey! He wants Cheerios!

The day isn't over yet, but as long as Ailsa avoids getting this bug, I have hope that everything will be fine. I've enlisted Dave to be the Designated Barbecuer, and I have some nice cold cider calling my name.

Superwoman, out.





* sob! they took away my beautiful ID card and gave me...well, if I can scan it in, I will.

1 comment:

Mommy said...

OMG!
You go girl!