I’m home with a sick kid today. A sick kid that doesn’t look sick really, and is in fact at this very moment playing Wii Bowling. My intuition and parenting skills are currently at war (as they often are with this child in particular, he is a mystery wrapped in an enigma). Everything in my being screams “if he’s well enough for wii bowling, he should be at school!!” Except he has hugely swollen glands and the school wouldn’t really want him, because strep throat is going around and he probably should have a culture. And I’m sure your thinking (like I am) if he had strep throat, he’d be complaining of sore throat, difficulty swallowing… something. And no, he just says his ear hurts a little, which is probably related to the swollen gland, which is definitely caused by SOMETHING MYSTERIOUS. He looks fine though. Ate a HUGE breakfast. But the last time I sent him to school when he said he was sick but he looked fine, he came home later that day with Scarlet Fever (and no fever, mind you). And I believe I blogged that day about what a bad parent I felt like. I didn’t even know kids still got Scarlet Fever! All I could think of was the poor kid in the Velveteen Rabbit… wasn’t that what he had? So here we are, waiting for a doctor’s appointment this afternoon to learn what his damage is and how I can fix it for him. Oh well. Thank goodness for sick days.
I always fantasize that I’ll be really productive on days like this. That in between bouts of domestic goddessery, I’ll write a few pages, revise a few chapters, or do some brainstorming. But not so much. I usually end up on the couch with one of our lovely noisy little birds in my lap, surfing blogs, and when that’s done, generally wasting time. Yesterday I had some GREAT ideas for the epilogue my agent asked me to think about for HOF, but the minute I sat down here, my ideas disappeared. I’m such a diva. I need silence to write, and I just wish that wasn’t so! I wish I could write anytime, anywhere, but I can’t. I guess this would be a good time to do some reading!
