Not what I planned.
Tonight, the kids and I went to see a play called The Work of Art at the high school. Well, J didn't go because there was a wardrobe issue and it was all rather stressful and rushed. But the play was good and we enjoyed it.
Which was all I was going to write about tonight.
But L was feeling even worse today, not sleeping well, not eating, not talking. And if you know L, you know that "not talking" is a sure sign that she's sick. So after the play I took her to the emergency room. I tried calling first (twice) but nobody was picking up the phone so we just went. I thought they'd probably yell at me (if you're not bleeding or dying, small town hospitals REALLY want you to call first) but they didn't.
We waited over an hour to be seen which presented its own problems. K had stayed at the school to watch the play for a second time and didn't have her house key with her. T (L's boyfriend) was with us and his mom was coming to pick him up at our house but we weren't at our house. It's times like that when I really really appreciate the invention of the cellphone.
So back to L. Turns out she has strep throat. The doctor said if the penicillin doesn't work, if she's not feeling better in two or three days, to come back because then it might be mono. Me, I'm hoping it's only strep.
After we got home and J went to bed (an hour late) and T got picked up, we were talking about how many times each of the kids has had to visit emerg. L is Queen of the ER with five visits, J in second place with three, and K is my favourite child with zero visits (*knocking furiously on wood*).
Which prompted K to tell me a story that she particularly loves, about the time she fell down the stairs, hit her head on the corner of a table, we slapped a bandage on the cut, and then went to Sears and bought a fridge.
Ohhh yeah. A Mother of the Year award is not in my future.
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