Well, that's not entirely true. My inlaws and the boys' godmother often take my boys for me when I'm sick. In fact, they'll usually get the boys the night before so I can rest. I am blessed. However, yesterday I called in sick. I was so exhausted and tired, I knew I would not make it through a day of teaching teenagers. So here's what a true "sick day" looks like for moms.
At 5:30, the alarm rings. I hit snooze. After several snoozes, I realize that this is not "normal tired", but instead "holy cow, I cannot stand in front of 27 teenagers and lead" tired, so I fumble for my phone and "call in" online, requesting a substitute. I then text my coteacher, who joins me for thirty to forty minutes in two of my classes, to let her know. We'd both assumed I'd catch whatever Little has contracted, so we'd talked the day before about the backup plan. Nicole is ready to put that plan in motion. I go back to sleep.
At 5:45, my husband texts me good morning. I inform him that I am going to take the day off and sleep. He suggests that I let his mom take Little for the day so I can rest. I decide she deserves a break, and that Little needs a doctor appointment so I know what I am catching. I try to call Mother-in-Law so she won't have to make the trip to my house to pick up Sickboy. No answer. I try her cellphone. Also, no answer. I wait for her.
At 6:00, I answer the back door, let her know the plan, then set the alarm clock for 7:00. I still need to get B on the bus. Grammy lives out of district, so there was no point of sending him with her. Besides, I have all day to rest, so I'll just put him on the bus and go back to sleep. I snooze.
At 7:00, I wake B up. He gets dressed. G, in a sleepy stupor, waddles to the couch and I cover him up with a blanket I'll have to wash germs off of later and set him up with cartoons. At 7:40, B and I run to the car and speed to the end of our country driveway to wait for the bus. Huh. The next door neighbors aren't out waiting for the bus. I have a sinking suspicion we have missed the bus. *Queue Cassie's ringtone...here.*
At 7:45, we drive back down the driveway to pick Little up so I can drive B to school. I am wearing pajamas, a corduroy winter coat, my husband's too-large-for-me shoes, and my glasses. Do not even try to picture the nest that my hair is. I'm just the chauffer; I am not to be seen. I run in and grab Little, throwing on his winter coat and a pair of my socks (comprised of red penguin sock and green Saint Patty's Day sock).
At 7:48 I return to the warm car with Sickboy in my arms. There, B informs me that the bus passed our driveway while we were inside. I sigh, smile at Big, and drive him to school.
At 8:20, Little and I arrive home. Thank GOD there was no need for us to get out of the car. Hot. Messes. I wait ten minutes to call the pediatrician for an appointment, secure one for 10:30, then set the alarm and go back to sleep until 9:40.
I wake up, dress, fix the hair (sort of), put in my contacts, and try to dress Little. He is not going for it. I decide that, as Sickboy, he is entitled to wear the Ninja Turtle Jammies in public today. I rustle up some matching G socks, find one half of each pair of his good shoes, settle for a full set of nasty shoes, shoe and coat him, and drive forty minutes to the doctor.
On the way, Sickboy shows the first wisp of personality for 2015. He's been sick all year so far.
Me: After the doctor, we are going to get Gatorade and orange juice.
G: and cold cuts?
He is grinning his joking grin from ear to ear. It makes him look like an impish leprechaun, and I realize that I am glad to have this moment with him.
At 12:34, we re-enter the house. Lunch. Nap. Well, I nap. Little may have fallen asleep in front of cartoons.
At 3:40, my alarm rings. Time to get Big off the bus. He eats a snack and tackles homework. I fix dinner, and mother-in-law arrives to pick up Sickboy for the next two nights and days. It'll be frigid in the morning and she doesn't want him to be out in subzero temperatures. He has been crying to come home each night, but we remind ourselves that he is five and not in charge, and decide he'll have to deal.
This morning, at 5:30 a.m., I wake up exhausted and call in. Luckily, my coteacher has left plans for the substitute she'd thought I'd need. Little is at Grammy's, and I don't have to be anywhere all day. I just have meet the bus. I rest.
To all parents and guardians, who never get sick days like I got today, but instead only have sick days like my yesterday: I more than commend you. You are past amazing. To my back up crew: I love you. Love. You.