Parenting Fail

As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, I have been on a bit of a roll since I decided to pull myself up by the bootstraps and get my life rolling again after a few days of wallowing in my figurative shit. Well, I was so busy conquering the world on Saturday that I left my little one to her own devices- literally, she was on her Kindle the ENTIRE day, which is not something I normally allow. However, I was super busy, and she, like me, deserves a little time to over-do it, right? Okay, who am I kidding- the truth is, I was busy and didn’t really notice until late in the day that she hadn’t gotten out of bed aside from a trip to get fast food with her dad. Who, by the way, was watching her on Saturday, so he gets some of the blame, right?

Anyway, yesterday, I got up bright and early, did my normal morning writing, and headed out to the gym about 8. When I got home, she was still in bed, on that damn Kindle again, while her dad snoozed on the couch.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” I griped, “This is ridiculous. Let’s go to the Flea Market in Santa Cruz like we talked about.”

No one really wanted to go- it was getting late, and Cam wanted to stay in bed, claiming she didn’t feel good. I wasn’t buying it. I whined and pleaded and, finally, bribed Camryn with promises of all the good toys she was sure to find at the Flea. That got her moving.

So, off we went, on a beautiful sunny day, a quick 45 minute drive over to SC to check out the bargains. Except…halfway there, I looked back to find Cam, who was uncharacteristically quiet, curled over the armrest with her eyes closed. She looked a little pale.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. And my head hurts. And my knee hurts a little bit. And my tummy hurts. And my throat hurts a lot.”

Uh-oh.

In my defense, I really thought she was just tired from laying around too much. I thought once we got her out of the house, she’d perk up. I was kind of right- she did perk up a little, once we were inside the market. There were toys everywhere (much to my relief, because I wasn’t sure there actually would be.) and she scored a bunch of dollhouse furniture straight away, which is like her favorite kind of thing ever. About ten minutes in, however, she was ready to go. I, feeling bad for her, kept compulsively checking her neck and forehead for warmth (she was definitely warm) and nagging at her dad to leave, even though I had basically forced everyone to go in the first place.

We stayed maybe an hour, and stopped for a quick lunch at a little deli nearby- that’s when I knew for sure Cam was sick. She didn’t want anything to eat except for a Snickers, and she didn’t even eat that. This kid LIVES for junk food- to pass on gobbling down her own Snickers is unheard of. The guilt came for me full force.

She slept all the way home, and as soon as we got back, she went straight to bed. I tried giving her some kids Motrin, but getting her to take medicine is like trying to get a cat in the swimming pool- it’s not only difficult, but can be terrifying and dangerous. My normally sweet girl can throw herself into such a state that it’s a little bit alarming. Pair with this the fact that her dad will pop in throughout the ordeal asking me to reconsider whether she really needs the Motrin or not…for God’s sake! YES, she needs it! Suffice to say that by the end of it, she took maybe half a dose of Motrin (not helpful at all), she was upset with me, I was upset with her dad, and who cares who he was upset with.

She rallied enough in the evening to eat a MASSIVE dinner (yay!) and take a long, lavender scented bath drawn by yours truly, after I scoured the bathroom from top to bottom- guilt is a big motivator for me, and I felt so bad for dragging her out earlier in the day. I sat with her while she soaked, and we watched an episode of Bob’s Burger’s on my phone. Not really the most kid-appropriate show, I know, but luckily most of the adult humor goes right over her head.

Finally, I tucked her into bed in her bright pink raccoon PJ’s, and we embarked on a very long night of barely sleeping. She was breathing weird by this point, and definitely feverish, and I just don’t sleep well when my kids are sick. I just wished I knew exactly how she was feeling so that I could judge how worried I should be…

I woke up at quarter to four this morning with one working nostril and a pounding headache. I guess I got my wish. Well played, Universe. Well played.