Wednesday, April 25, 2007

My Brain is Way Too Fried to Think of a Title

Did I insinuate that yesterday and the day before were bad? That I didn't like them? Did I maybe, oh, whine a little or something? Really? About those piece of cake days?

Oh ye of little brain, welcome to today. Day of a million errands and extra people everywhere. (I think I have forgotten to inform you that the children's grandmother is at the house this week to "help out." And while I do like her and appreciate her efforts, having an extra person around, even if that person is trying to help--or maybe especially if they are trying to help--actually hinders my efforts at having a consistently efficient system of household management.)

Frank stayed home sick again. The severity of her symptoms is due in part, in my opinion, to her participation in a softball game yesterday afternoon even though she'd been sick enough overnight and in the morning to stay home from school. I don't know about you folks, but when I was growing up, if we were sick enough to stay home from school, we were sick enough to miss the rest of the day's activities as well. Ah, how the times are a-changin'. Kids these days! GEEZ!

So she went to bed last night feeling wretched, and, predictably enough, woke up this morning feeling quite terrible. As soon as the doctor's office was open, I was on the line, scheduling her appointment. The doctor confirmed that she was sick, bronchitis sick, and prescribed antibiotics. She took the antibiotics at 1:30pm.

At 2pm she announced in her most drama-queenish "I'm so siiiiiiiiick" manner that she was sure the medicine was not working because she didn't feel any better. I calmly explained to her that antibiotics are not Advil and that they have to be given time in order to work. I went on to explain that she should at least give the medication until tomorrow morning to do its job, but I'm pretty sure she had tuned me out at that point because at 5:45pm she asserted in her snottiest (literally and figuratively) voice that she just didn't think it was working because it had been "like, eight hours" since she took it, and she was still (obviously, duh, can't you TELL?) feeling quite ill. This was further emphasized by her rubbing her face back and forth across my shoulder in an effort to soothe her wearied soul. I corrected her math and then had the audacity to use the word efficacy in a sentence, as if an eleven-year-old whose subtraction skills are suffering under the strain of her illness would be able to comprehend a word that is under the heading "Challenging" on her vocab lists. It was something to the effect of, "You need to refrain from doubting the efficacy of your medication."

Yes, I know. Stand back, people, I'm a professional.

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