That Time My Kid Missed A Month Of School

Welcome back to those of you who probably didn't enthusiastically didn't vote for Trump. Also, I started this post a while back, but didn't finish it thanks to my much needed Trump rant. Anyway. . .

As I type, Ironflower is lolling on the couch on a Wednesday afternoon.

Again.

According to the letter I got about my older children's poor attendance records (which I got after Lovebug reached his 7th absence due to a 4 day fever/upper respiratory infection week before last), this marks Ironflower's 21st absence this year.

She'd be on her 22nd, but I made her go to school Monday (despite feeling very crappy, which made sense because by that afternoon she was vomiting and had a fever) and then get sent to the nurse just to prove that I'm not just letting her play truant because I'm too lazy to make her go to school.

I think she's had 5 stomach viri* this school year, including one which then turned into an upper respiratory infection which then turned into pneumonia that required 2 rounds of antibiotics. Which explains why she's missed the equivalent of a month of school, but not what the hell happened to her immune system. She's 12, not 2.

Though, to be perfectly honest, if puberty continues just like this - many illnesses, fierce independence and an unfailingly sarcastic wit, I will consider myself blessed. (I'm not sure the ever vomiting Ironflower would agree).

The most worrisome part of this whole missed a month of school thing is that she's only screwed up one test because of it.

Oh, and that it's quite possible the truancy officer is going to visit us. Or something. I don't quite know how it works in the 'burbs.

I think this must be karma. I remember judging parents whose kids missed a lot of school back in my teaching days, wondering why they didn't see the importance of daily attendance. Of course, if Ironflower is any indication, daily attendance isn't as important as I thought.

I'm just kidding, people ready to alert the middle school administration about my laissez-faire attitude.


*Or viruses, if you didn't sit through 3 years of Latin in junior high.

I Think She's Tougher Than I Am

My daughter is tough. From seeming to improve on Saturday, things grew horrible on Sunday. After a disastrous attempt to have dinner at my parents' house (like we do most Sundays), Mom (who is such a wonderful grammy and whom we appreciate so much) and I took Ironflower to the ER (Hot Guy was working). The Motrin (which is SO MUCH BETTER than Tylenol, BTW) wore off early and her fever shot up. Then she complained about an earache. She hadn't complained of any pain the whole time and I almost felt relieved. Surely an ear infection explained the fever?

But despite thinking that I at least had an explanation, Ironflower was worrying me (and her grammy). So we went to the ER while my Dad watched Lovebug (which I needlessly worried about, they had a great time and I am very grateful).

Ironflower just clung to me, not wanting to talk or hear stories or sing. The wait was not as long as I'd feared, though it still left me enough time to mentally insult all the people waiting ahead of us. None of them looked that sick, let me tell you.

Anyway, the condescending nurse
(apparently I made a lot of wrong decisions concerning Ironflower's care, like dressing her too warmly even though she complained of cold and not giving her a dose of Motrin when the last one wore off, even though she was only supposed to take it every 8 hours and it had only been 7 hours, but it's not like I care what that nurse thinks)finally led us to her triage room. Ironflower, despite feeling like hell, cooperated and barely whimpered during the poking and prodding.

We were sent to treatment room. Ironflower was given what must have been a double dose of Motrin, which she responded to fairly quickly. But still, it's hard to get poked and prodded even when you're feeling 100% and Ironflower handled the doctor wonderfully. It's not that I would have been upset if she'd cried or protested or fought, it was what I expected. Hell, I cried when I got a spinal before Lovebug's c-section (okay, the doctor also had some issues inserting it, but that's another post). But Ironflower stuck her chin out and showed her will of Iron. She understood that everything was necessary so that she could feel better and so she handled it.

Color me impressed.