This is not how I’d planned to spend my day. I got up like normal, started getting ready for work, got one kid on the bus while the other retreated to her room with a migraine, and finished getting ready for work.
So what happened? Well, as I was headed out the driveway for work, I got a call from the school. The kid that had actually gone to school was sick. Could I please come remove the germ-ridden fiend from their premises (ok, that’s not what she said, but…)? So I’m off to school. The lady reminds me that if he’s going to be sick frequently I should get him a doctor’s note. I give her the stinkeye and say that if that’s what they want, I will, but non-specific probably-allergy issues are not easy to pin down. Anyway. My dislike of school policies aside, I get him home, sit down to make a few phone calls and…
There’s a reason I have referred to my kids as ‘petri dishes with legs’ ever since they were old enough to attend school. Look, adults keep this personal space bubble which doubles as quarantine zone, so unless you’re sneezing some airborne virus on your friends and coworkers, you’re not likely to become patient zero. Kids, on the other hand. Well, they play and roughhouse and aren’t very good about handwashing. And I’m a good mommy who lets her kid hug her. Sometimes I’m even the one doing the hugging. So of course what the kid gets, I get. And then the husband gets and then… it’s actually not a bad way to study epidemiology and the rate of contagion if you aren’t feeling too miserable at that point to care any more.
I just hopes he remembers this someday when I’m old and incontinent and need to go to adult daycare and it’s my turn to bring in all the senior germs to the house. In the meantime, I’m staying home to hope this mini-plague ends here.