Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Tales from the Trenches: Publicly ill children

Gonna make it a quick one. Hubs needs to go to bed early, as he has a conference tomorrow. I have a nifty story, though.

Sunday School was replaced this week with the children's Christmas play. It was a lovely performance. One of the children started yawning when he sat down on stage. A few minutes later, he walked off stage and went to his mother. (He's 6.) His mother snuggled him up in her lap, covering him up with her coat. A few minutes after that, she was slowly walking with him like she was carrying a sack of potatoes.

The performance went on and I leaned over to tell K- that I thought maybe David had become ill and she said, "No he didn't mom. He is right in the back." He was. His mom was sitting in the last pew. He was standing in the aisle watching.

After the pastor was done with his sermon and the mass exodus began, I saw the mother and her son making their way up the center aisle like salmon swimming the wrong way. I said, "Oh, were we keeping David awake?" in kind of a kidding way. "No, he vomited all over me, himself, the pew and the carpet. I'm just going to get our coats."

Hmm. Really? So, her child was ill and she remained with him in the general public? Ewww. His father was there. Her other son was in the performance, though. She didn't want to miss it.

Maybe her car keys were in her coat pocket, but did they need to remain with the general public?

I'm a germaphobe. Puke freaks me out. Public vomiting really freaks me out. So, I did as any germaphobe in my condition would. I ran to K-'s classroom, pulled her aside, confirmed David's puking episode and told her that if she ate anything at all, she was to thoroughly wash her hands.

"Okay, Mommy." She knows. Oh, she knows.

So, how do you handle such a situation? This is what we do. And because it has happened to us definitely more than once, here is another "what we do."

Smiles in my day:
- Paul, the massage therapist, was back! Our bosses hire him for 10 minute massages for us for the next two weeks. Generally, I can get a good 4 visits in with Paul in a year. Delightful!

Have a great day!


Rach said...

I guess I don't think too much about public illness and can't be too much of a germophobe since I swim in the little boogers on a daily basis. There's nothing quite like being a school teacher and being SURROUNDED by germs every. single. day. :sigh:

I mostly bathe myself liberally in hand sanitizer (no sink in my room) and wipe surfaces down with antibacterial wipes. That's all I can do, really. When a kiddo comes to me and tells me they don't feel well, I have to feel their forehead for potential fevers before I send them to the nurse, thereby further exposing myself.

So, yeah, I can't be germophobic, it would only get in the way of the job. :eye roll:

As for that massage therapist, you and my friend Julie must be the two luckiest women in the world to have someone come to YOU for 10 minute massages. Color me OH so jealous...;o)

Bailey's Leaf said...

For more reasons than I can reasonably count, including but certainly not limited to the germ issue, I could not be a teacher. It is not a gift that God gave to me. Teaching my own child is one thing and if the parents were all motivated and excited like we are, that would be a different thing. The kids that are left by their parents to learn only what is done in school with no home involvement breaks my heart. The lame excuses for undone homework (by the students, but generally manufactured by the parents at the young age of K-) would make me want to scream.

I'll take my quiet display job and make certain that I give generous gifts to those who have anything to do with my child's education, thankyouverymuch.

I love Paul the massage therapist. My husband understands that it isn't a cheating kind of love. I love Paul's ability to crank my muscles back into the shape that they should be. I love that at this point, Paul knows exactly what he needs to do for me and for 10 minutes, the Christmas retail world is a very. good. place.

Rach said...

Oh, yeah, teaching DEFINITELY takes patience when it comes to lame excuses, etc. Oy!