Unexplored Territory

Monday, May 28, 2007

3:44 am

Not the time that I want to be greeted by my oldest child, saying "mommy ... I feel like I'm going to throw up."

THANKFULLY, it never transpired. However, this does mean a trip to our Urgent Care center because well you know, germs and holidays go hand in hand. She was complaining of a sore throat yesterday all day, then she popped a fever of 102, and the nausea. Same exact symptoms that the Man had when he had strep.

I wish there was a strep diagnosis kit that they sold OTC. Wouldn't that be wonderful? And the only way you could get a script was by bringing in the dipstick with the positive sign on it, and the pharmacists would confiscate them, to eliminate the idea that people would just abuse the tests.

I think it sounds like a freaking solid idea. Especially at 8:00 am on a Memorial Day where I have all kids home, all of whom were expecting to go with me and their PawPaw to the Memorial Day parade this morning, but instead I am hoping to send the younger two with PawPaw and I will take the Queen to the infestation of all germs, the Urgent Care center.

There is a rumor that there is a NP at our local pharmacy, and that she can do strep tests, and get the scripts written and filled there. But my wild guess is s/he isn't working today.

Because I know I'm not.

Then that foils the family get together tonight. Ace will stay home with the Queen, while the Man, Monkey, and I go to my brother's camper to par-tay. And I will hear about this. Every. Single. Minute. Of. The. Day. Today.

Ok ... other than that ...

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY, Y'ALL!

Labels: Memorial Day, sick kids

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.

The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.

The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.