Carnival, part 2

Friday evening we went to the Boys' school carnival, which was simultaneously fun & wild. The boys were ecstatic to be there, sharing hugs with teachers and waving excitedly at school friends.

For my part, what struck me were the knowing, welcoming smiles from the adults, particularly school staff.

In fact, I received a few quiet asides from teachers, about how they "look so happy." The principal, whose been very welcoming, even said to me as the Boys were bouncing on the Jupiter Jump, "They are doing so well; glad to have you all here!"

So, although it is definitely a pain to drive them to school and pick them up every day, halfway across town, I'm glad that we decided to leave them in their school. If they'd been placed with us earlier in the school year, we might would have moved them to the neighborhood school, 3 blocks from our house.

G. wishes they could stay where they are next year, but it looks like they will be moving schools again in the fall. I only hope that next year's administration will be as kind and understanding as this years' have been.

Hopefully everyone, teachers, Mom and the Boys themselves, will have less to deal with: fewer absences, less drama, more stability.

Urgent Care

I hit silent on my phone when it rang at 9:30, as I was enjoying a mid-morning nap. G. had taken the boys to school, since they start late on Friday (why, I have no idea).

A few minutes later, G's distinctive ringtone woke me again. When I picked up, I could barely understand what he was saying. Something about the school nurse, Little Bro, school policy, blah blah, something something.- I was foggy.

I broke into a cold sweat, however, when he said, "he needs to be picked up from school & taken to the doctor."

Worried that he was puking again, I sat bolt upright, only to lay back down with a groan when G. clarified, no, no, the RINGWORM he picked up at the school playground (over a MONTH ago) had flared up again and his teacher who had been "keeping an eye on it" had sent him to the nurse; who called us, to come get him... because school policy is to have ringworm sites covered...but they can't cover his because it's on his head...and hats are against the dress code. Um, ok.

In any case, nurse tells me (once I roll out of bed & trundle down to the school, which No is not anywhere close
to our house; in a different district, in fact), that I should probably take him a doctor, because he's probably contagious. Awesome.

Long story short: I call his worker, for a reccomendstion, since both little Bro & Big Bro were treated at the shelter for the ringworm infection (not caused by actual worms or anything, just a nasty fungus). Recommended doc doesn't have them on file, can't see Little Bro without an intake, no intakes until Tuesday. Set up intake, go to plan B- Urgent Care. Little Bro needs meds ASAP, as I am NOT keeping him home Monday and Tuesday for some stupid ringworm.

We hit up the local Urgent Care clinic where Little Bro & I wait forever, but are rewarded for our patience with 2 suckers and a cute doctor, respectively.

Back to our end of town to drop of the prescription, late lunch, then BACK down to the school to pick up Big Bro, who of course has no idea anything's amiss.

Chatted with the nurse again, who still seemed miffed about what to do about the while school policy issue; although I'd dearly love to see her try to tape a bandage to his curly head!

The kicker is that the treatment for ringworm is typically a steroidal ointment of some kind, BUT BECAUSE his spot is on his head, it's not effective and he has to take a syrup. Which, in order for the medicine to be most effective, he has to BREAK A SWEAT 20-30 minutes after he ingests it, as in the medicine will only be able to kill the fungus when it is EXCRETED through the pores of head. WTF.
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Thanks for all the messages of concern, he's fine & the medicine, while icky will start to do its work soon.
We hope.

Worst Morning Ever- BAR NONE

Apparently, when a child says his stomach hurts...you should a) believe him & b) hustle him to the bathroom.

I did neither on Wednesday morning. And suffered greatly for it.

Little Brother awoke complaining of a tummy-ache and I was all, "Sorry to hear it, now get up." thinking he was stalling on getting up, as both the boys take foreeeeeeever to get out of bed on a typical school morning.

The words were barely out of my mouth before small fountain of vomit errupted from HIS mouth. Ah!

Greg (my husband) and Big Bro both muttered, "Gross!" as Little Bro continued to wretch in his bed. Gross is right.

When he stopped, I yanked him out of bed, hustled him to the bathroom, stripped him of his pajamas and had him kneel at the ivory throne. Poor guy.

The next wave came and he didn't really get much out.

And therein lies my fatal mistake. I assumed he was done.

Greg got both the boys dressed as i stripped the bed and threw the sheets, pillowcases, etc into the wash. Miraculously, we managed to get in the car and leave for school on time. We were literally 2 blocks from the school when Little Bro announced from the back seat that he was going to be sick again. And he was. Twice.

I could do nothing but look in horror, over my shoulder, as we were still in traffic. Big Bro kindly handed him some Wet Wipes as I mumbled, "ohshitohshitohshit". We careened into the school parking lot, whereupon Big Bro made a dash for the entrance, yelling "I'll tell his teacher he's sick!!!!!" In vain, I shouted, "You don't have to tell her, I'll call.....!!" while trying to wipe up watery vomit with Wet Wipes (not super effective).

Little Bro came home with me, slumped in the backseat, sick, covered in sick and generally miserable.

We got him situated on the couch with a puke bowl, a blanket and his stuffed racoon. He puked 1x more then fell asleep, exhausted.

I cleaned out the car, got dressed and went to teach my 10am class (watching a movie, thank god), while Greg stayed home with Little Bro.

What. A. Morning.

p.s. Shout out to our lovely friend, M.W. for the care package of apple juice, jello, crackers and apple sauce. He loved it and refers to the crackers as, "Mine, from when I was sick"