My name will be at the top of list. Remember all that bitching I did about the nurse’s area at preschool??? I actually recoiled in disgust and horror when I went through the initial interview and I realized that some horrible mothers leave their sick, sad children at some health care room within the day care! The abomination! The sheer WRONGNESS of it all! When I was sick, my mom made me tomato soup with elbow macaroni, let me watch “The Price is Right” and generally made numerous trips to the kitchen to fetch me whatever I wanted. And when I was young enough, I could sometimes coerce her into rubbing my feet or just playing with my hair. So you can imagine my reaction when the director of the preschool told me proudly how they were one of the first centers in the US to offer a place for sick children to stay, so their parents could keep on working. “It has its own ventilation system so the germs can’t pass back into the regular center, and it has four separate rooms!” she exclaimed. There are some bizarre names for the rooms - basically, a “Pink/Crusty/Runny Eye” Room, a “Poopy Diarrhea and Vomit Room”, a “Flu, Aching Bones, Bubonic Plague Room” and a “I’ve got a virus but I don’t know what it is” Room (legal disclaimer: names are not REAL names for the rooms - they are extrapolated from initial data provided to above mother during long orientation meeting).

So, to set the stage. I have no daycare for Arden this week. As yet another illustration of my lacking mothering skills, I misplaced Judi’s daycare vacation schedule. She doesn’t do so hot on the reminding, either. Apparently the other mothers are much better about remembering. I found out on a fluke that she was off this week last Thursday. I begged mom and dad for help. They took care of Arden yesterday and today. Monday afternoon I started running my own fever and should have been sent to the Poop Room. Instead I went to bed for 14 hours and felt much better this morning. I got halfway to Northern Virginia for yet another Ikea trip and got the phone call from preschool. Lily had vomited and was running a low-grade fever. Would I like to come pick her up in the next 30 minutes or admit her to the hermetically-sealed, Lysol-laden nurse’s station?

Ummm, I’m in freakin’ Fredericksburg, Virginia. So my child spent the rest of her afternoon burning a slow fever on a cot, watching television and being doted on by Nurse Kathy.

Seriously, folks, I know she probably got better care there today than I could give - at least in terms of medically. The women who run that place are retired pediatric ER nurses. They know their shit (literally!). However, it just about killed me to do what I said I’d never do. I used to work with a woman who would drag her sick kids with her to the office. Nothing would keep her from her stupid job. Today that was me. Mike told me that the nurse’s place is happy to have Lily back tomorrow. I think I might have a heart attack if I do that again. So, no more of that. I know that it’s a “healthy, beneficial alternative” to “those parents that do not have back-up care for their children when their children are sick” or to “those parents that do not have flexible work schedules or work out of town”. I just can’t believe that I joined those ranks today. Who the hell needs to be Catholic when you have this much guilt?

The end result: Lily survived, intact, and seemingly unscarred for life. She told me that she loved Nurse Kathy and she told me that Mike and I are (still) her best friends. Apparently she didn’t know that I was shopping for office furniture in Ikea while she was confined to her cot with strangers. So, send in your nominations now!

Ever been in that zone in your sleep where you are quickly awakened by someone only to be totally confused, shaking, and wondering where you are? Apparently I was in that heavy sleep where nothing wakes me, including Lily crying for me. Around 12.30 AM last night, Mike grabbed me and told me he needed my help.

Lily had fallen out of bed and hit her lip on the edge of the night table. She wasn’t that upset about it but the cut she had was bleeding profusely. There was blood all over her bedroom carpet, on her pajamas, all over her hands and mouth - it was everywhere. I was holding her so Mike could try to wipe her off. At that time we didn’t know where she was bleeding from though we assumed it was her mouth.

I did my best to soothe her and be a good mommy when the combination of being totally out of it and seeing that much blood coming out of her started me down the path to passing out. It’s been a long time since I actually passed out and it’s never happened when other people are bleeding - usually it only happens when I’m having blood drawn. I felt all the blood drain out of my face and the room start tilting. Mike said, “GET IT TOGETHER, CRISTINA!” I was totally and completely mortified. I had to crawl into the bathroom and put my face on the floor because I was convinced I was either going to puke or pass out. Mike took care of Lily and got her cleaned up and calmed down. Apparently I will not be winning the Mother of the Year award.

I think she’s fine - she doesn’t seem to remember much of it and she spent the rest of the night sleeping with her arms and various body parts draped over my face and chest. She was happy this morning and excited about her Holiday Christmas concert (okay, she’s excited that grammy and grampy are coming - she doesn’t even know what the concert is about). I’m off to do more painting at the office.

I’m washing sheets right now. Lily greeted me this morning wearing nothing but her pajama top and telling me that she’ll try harder tomorrow. I tried my mom’s old trick of getting Lily up at 11 to put her on the potty. However, she’s so out of it that I have to literally hold her on the potty or she’ll fall off, and then she starts crying because she doesn’t know what’s going on. She doesn’t know how to go when she’s still half asleep. It may have worked for me as a child but it doesn’t work for Lily. Mike did a great job not telling me “I told you so.” Thanks, honey.

In my e-mail I often get a newsletter from Parents.com. It’s targeted to the age of your child (a great example of how targeted e-mail marketing can work). Today’s newsletter really hit home for me and also made me feel less insane about Arden. I’m not even going to bother to try to explain it - I’ll just post the first paragraph of the article here and let it stand on its own merit. And then I’m going to do as suggested and take a “parent break”.

“Just when you think you have your toddler all figured out, he can turn the tables on you. Even the most mild-mannered 13-month-olds will experiment with ... how shall we say it? ... undesirable behavior. If your normally happy-go-lucky toddler suddenly starts screaming, yelling, biting, and hitting, you can take some solace in knowing that his development is right on track. But that doesn’t make it much easier to deal with. Unfortunately, traditional discipline tactics don’t work very well for this age group, so between keeping your toddler out of the cat food and coping with tantrums, try to take a parent break. You may have to schedule it in advance, but building in some free time for yourself each week is the best way to refuel your patience tank. “