April 28, 2011

Fever schmever

So Jannika today doesn't finish her breakfast Pop-Tart (it was Silas' birthday breakfast - don't judge), then eats only 1/3 of her corn dog and about zero of her slushy (I'm not sure why I'm including specific food items here...mount this blog entry in the "questionable parenting" trophy case already), and then complains about a funny feeling in her tummy for the next three hours. And did it ever cross my mind to take her temp? Nope. It's like those times that Silas is hugely naughty and won't sleep and seriously, kid, you are gonna get it if you keep standing up in your crib and - oh, wait...what's that smell? Just a diaper that's been dirty for the last 45 minutes? (And nevermind that it occurs every two weeks or so - I never learn.)

It's not until we're about to leave for her swimming lessons that I start to wonder (well, I was thwacked with reality when she started throwing the word choky around), so I grab the Vomit Bowl (I will not include specifics on this one - it may or may not be used in daily cooking) just in case for the car ride to the pool. So while the poor girl has her head bowed and is breathing heavily into the Vomit Bowl, I start to review my outstanding parenting philosophy on this one.

Why am I actually bringing my daughter to swim lessons still? The answer is four-fold:

1) Jannika LOVES her swim class.
2) More importantly, I'm paying a whopping, unseemly $7 per class, regardless if she attends or not. Seriously. And she's already wasted 66-cents of her $1 corn dog today.
3) More realistically, she's managed to NOT vomit all day. What are the chances it'll happen during the 30 minutes in the pool? (Please don't answer...)
4) And more underlying than all of this...this is how I was raised. I mean, my mom sent me to school with chicken pox. Even though I was itchy. And my stomach was covered with red spots. Because you never know - it totally could have been swimmers itch or something. And then there was the time I slipped on ice and broke my wrist, and my mom didn't believe me that it was a little...well...painful. So I went to school for DAYS (I have this vague memory that I managed to score a sling from the school nurse, too - nothing was cooler than slings, crutches, and braces back in 1st grade) until I finally complained so much that my mom took me in to the doctor. You know, to get a cast for my broken wrist....that I had injured the week before. Whatever. Just look how fantastic I turned out.

So anyways, Jannika almost managed to enjoy her class, and she almost was able to eat dinner with us (and shoot, may just as well tell you we had pizza...that is completely legit for birthday suppers, just FYI), and she almost managed to stop shaking from her fever (that I swear probably wasn't there before her lesson) within an hour of returning home with the help of ibuprofen.

And you know what? She learned to float in the water today. Take THAT, questionable parenting philosophy.

1 comment:

jaclyn sytsma, mom said...

C'mon, kids, don't be such babies!

Actually, the broken arm was 2 weeks old before I brought Jacoba to the doctor. The biggest clue was she went from a natural-born left-hander to a right-hander during those 2 weeks.