"That Mom"

So on Tuesday night, Mark was away for the night for work. I was quite proud of myself for getting the kids out of the house all day and keeping ourselves busy. I joined a playgroup in our new town right when we moved here, but hadn't gotten around to attending any events until today. It was fun -- nice to meet some new people and not spend the day alone.

See, I'm "that mom". The kind that isn't shy about meeting new people and can just show up and immerse herself into a whole new group in a whole new community. Aren't I brave and outgoing?

Tuesday evening came around, and I got the kids to bed and was spending some quality time on the computer, reading blogs. Around 11pm, Jack began to cry. Not the kind of cry that makes you mad or frustrated, but the kind that makes you want to go in there and rescue him. I scooped him up in my arms and took him to the glider where we rocked for a good, long time. The good kind of rock. The kind that he snuggles in tight, rests his head on my shoulder, and lets me just rock-a-bye my baby. Pure bliss. To add to my bliss, every so often Jack would, as he occasionally likes to do, pick his head up, look right in my eyes and come in for a kiss on the mouth. This particular evening it was lots of kisses, many of which were the open-mouth, drooly variety. Love it, love it, love it! When I finally lay him down for the last time, I tiptoed into my room and went to sleep with a heart full of love.

See, I'm "that mom". The one who lives in the moment and truly apprecaites and recognizes the little gifts that God has given me. I'm blessed and I'm greatful for all that I have.

Wednesday morning Jack woke with a fever. Hmmmm. That was what the crying/fussiness/permission to rock was all about. Well, he did have immunizations last week and I did note that one of them had on it's fact sheet something about "fever, possibly developing 1-2 weeks after shot". So that's probably it. No other symptoms, no big deal. Just lay low for the day.

Yep, I'm "that mom". The one who has three kids, who is calm, cool and collected and doesn't worry about a simple fever. I'm invincible.

Thursday morning, Jack woke up with a rash on his chest and tummy . . . and a few dots on his face. Not a horrible, hive-like rash . . . just little red dots. The kind my kids sometimes get with a fever / hotness. That's probably it, no other symptoms, no big deal.

See, I'm "that mom". The one that doesn't get worried, remember?

Until we get dressed and go downstairs. And I try to put him down on the floor. And he falls to the floor crying. And doesn't get up for a long time. And when he does get up, he screams and limps to the chair and stands with left leg in the air. This goes on for a while, and I sit on the floor trying to coax him over to me to see how he walks. He limps, and it looks like he's in pain. After a quick exam, I call the doctor, just as they're opening, and get an appt. for the same morning.

Great. Now I'm "that mom". The one who ignores her child's symptoms and makes nothing of them until it turns into a serious illness. The one who appears on a show like Dateline, warning other parents not to ignore "the signs" that she should have seen. Fabulous.

We rush to dress, eat, get cleaned up, packed up and out the door. As we're preparing to leave, Jack is walking around the house just fine. No more limping, no more tears.

Great. Now I'm "that mom" who panics over nothing and brings a perfectly fine child to the doctor's office.

I contemplate cancelling, but decide to go. He does have a fever and a rash, so he does have something going on, right?! We get to the office, park in back, and use the "back door" reserved for special people (i.e. people who's kids have a rash of unknown origin). We're ushered into an exam room, and as I undress him and explain to the nurse how he's suddenly better, I see the bottom of his feet. They're both red, but the left foot is puffy, kind of hard feeling, and warm to the touch. Jack recoils in pain when I touch it. Ah-ha! There is something wrong with his feet. I feel a sense of victory -- quickly followed by a sense of "wait a minute. My poor kid has something wrong with his feet!"

Now I'm "that mom" again. The one that ends up on Dateline.

The doctor comes in and agrees that the fever is probably immunization-related, and the rash is probably fever-related. But what about the feet thing? Was he walking barefoot on pavement? No. Somewhere where he could have burned his feet? No. Does he have bug bites? No (how would that happen on the bottoms of his feet?) Hmmmm. His ears look fine, his throat is . . . red! Ah-ha! Doctor now knows what's going on. Strep culture is negative, so it's probably . . . drum-roll please . . . hand, foot and mouth disease. What?!

Now I'm "that mom". The one whos kid has the nasty illness. The mom who must be dirty to have such scummy kids that can get such nasty diseases. Great. Nothing we can do about it, nothing to take, just give it 1-2 weeks to work its way out of the system. And stay away from other kids. Like the ones I just spent Tuesday with. You know, our "new friends" in the "new playgroup" I just joined in our "new town".

Great. Now I'm "that mom". The one who brings her sick kid to a playgroup and exposes all of the other kids. The mom that has to make phone calls to inform other parents of today's discovery. The one that swears up and down that she "didn't know" her kid was sick and that he "didn't have a fever" until the day after we saw you.

Yep, I'm "that mom". And tomorrow, I'll probably be a whole different one. Again.