So yesterday, I was working along and minding my own business when the phone rang.
It was school. Chickadee was in the nurse’s office, and did I want to come pick her up?
Because I am the meanest mother in the entire world, I asked if they had taken her temperature. They had not. So I offered to wait while they did.
She had a fever. I thanked the caller and asked her to let Chickadee know that I would be there in ten minutes.
Twenty minutes later we were back home and Chickadee crawled into bed and was asleep almost instantly. Poor thing.
Ten minutes after THAT, the phone rang.
It was Monkey. Seems that the new rack of braces he had JUST GOTTEN the day before? Broke.
We had a brief discussion and he agreed that he could probably last the rest of the day, and we hung up.
I called Otto and asked him if he could take Monkey to the orthodontist after school. He said he could.
I called the orthodontist and asked them if they could see him after school. They said they could.
I checked on Chickadee, who was still in the same position she’d fallen asleep in.
When Monkey got home from school, it turned out that his class had had a Halloween party and he’d figured he could have a lollipop if he was “careful,” even though lollipops are on the orthodontist’s forbidden list. Now—to be fair—I have never quite understood the ban on lollipops as long as there’s no biting involved. Until now. It turns out that if you elect to just hold the lollipop between your teeth and gum, on the side there, so that you can TALK ENDLESSLY as some small boys are wont to do, the lollipop will pull the brackets on that side of your mouth CLEAN OFF YOUR TEETH.
So this one wasn’t the orthodontist’s fault, at least.
The evening was surprisingly uneventful, at least until I got an email from my local NBC affiliate wanting to know if I might be available for an interview tomorrow. Er, today, now. I think today would be a SWELL day for an interview, don’t you? I mean, I have a sick kid lolling on the couch; it’s Halloween and the other kid is jacked up on expectations and the sick kid is trying to convince me that the thermometer lies and she feels JUST FINE, good enough for trick-or-treating, really, and my house is a disaster. Awesome.
Hey, at least my husband offered to help out this morning, no problem. Too bad he spent the entire morning in line to vote, instead.
The crew will be here in about half an hour. I’m resisting the urge to go change my clothes. Again. Chickadee thinks this is great entertainment—chicken soup, endless television, and Mom putting on make-up and freaking out.