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!