21 June 2005

Monkey torture

"Mom, I gots monkeys in my ears!"

I'm really starting to hate the monkeys. That's code in our house for an ear infection, started by one of the pediatricans in our group. He asked to look at my son's ears, under the pretense of finding "monkeys."

Today, heck, this week, is NOT good for monkeys.

My husband and I played "Whose meeting is less important?" this afternoon. I won: I went to my meeting.

Tomorrow is worse. Neither of us can miss. We both have filled days. We are in positions that have considerable responsibility, and face time is required.

I'm trusting one of my teenager sitters on her recommendation, and having a friend of hers sit. Not ideal, but we really have no choice.

We have no family within a three hours' drive. All of them work, anyway.

My husband's mom would make the five-hour-plus trip if we asked, but she's just gotten back from an out-of-state funeral. We aren't asking.

I know my neighbors, but not well enough to trust them with a rambunctious three-year-old. He's not THAT sick.

I can't dump a sick kid on my friends and make their kids sick.

Daycare won't take him, because he's had a fever (low-grade) all day. We need 24 hours without fever. The policy was just redistributed yesterday, as a gentle reminder to folks like my husband who really try to push that rule.

Anyone who thinks being a working parent is easy really needs to spend some time in our shoes. Juggling work and family is hard enough. Toss in illness or a family crisis, or a work crisis, and it inches toward impossible.

Darn stupid monkeys.

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