So my eldest daughter, ‘Sunshine’ shall we call her, got up this morning and complained of a head and stomach ache.
From the beginning I wasn’t really buying it. She forgets that I have been gazing upon her face for 15 years, I know every expression, every quirk, every twitch .
Still I would give her the benefit of the doubt, I go through the routine, suggest a visit to the bathroom, NO, is it cramps? NO, take her temperature, normal, and suddenly before my eyes she turns into Meryl Streep, careening and wailing, lying on the floor writing in ‘pain’, it was so OTT I handed her her Academy Award
and ‘ suggested’ in a non shrill voice that she get ready for school.
While she may have had some discomfort, if the theatrics were to be believed an ambulance should be summoned immediately, a bed reserved in the ER.
Now, it is not that I wasn’t concerned at all but I had to go to work, I had to hurry to get ready and I didn’t really have time to deal with this. now were she really ill, which of course she has been in the past, well then yes I can be Florence Nightingale, I can dole out the TLC with calf’s foot jelly, snuggle on the sofa with the dvds on. however this was fake fake fake, I had already lost one Thurday of work while her sister faked an appendicitis.
I faked an appendicitis once too. when I was about 11, it was bacon and egg flan for school lunch and I hated it. so I said I had stomach ache and before you know it the doctor was ordering 2 weeks off school ‘ just in case’.
Two wonderful weeks spent watching Crown court and the Sullivans.
So I am not unsypathetic to the fake illnesses, but I had asked my daughters to just tell me if they were tired and needed a day at home, or just needed a day with me, we can nick off school for the day, have lunch, shop etc. I figure that sometimes they need that time, but when they claim to be ill, I have to make judgement calls on visiting a doctor, who will probably perform unnecessary ( and lets me honest here, costly) tests, causing a lot of worry and wasted time. ( and possible bankruptcy!)
So where am I going, oh yes her faking and me not being too happy about it.
See, the thing is, I wanted to go to work. I LOVE going to work on Thursday, I have a great Thursday job. It is so great sometimes I wonder why they don’t charge me for letting me come in.
why do I love it so much?
For one when I walk into work no one says to me ” Can I have ….” or ” You didn’t……..”
Maybe it is like having an affair ( not that I have ever had one ) I get things from work I cannot get at home, and I don’t just mean stationary supplies and whiteboard markers.
The people I work for and with, thank me for coming in.
Never happens at home, ‘Thanks Mum for being here when I woke up’, never heard that.
I can scrub that kitchen floor till it shines but my Man has never walked through the door and said ‘ goddamn that floor gleams get on your back you bitch’
(N.B. the people I work for never ask me to do that either!!so that’s okay)
I feel competent at work. I know what I have to do, I know how to do it, no judgement calls, no grey areas. No feeling that if I make a mistake I could totally screw up someone life, they could end up in prison or rehab or just lonely and depressed, hikikomori
or whatever its called, living by night like a vampire communicating only through the internet.
I see progress at work, I see people move up a level in their studies. There is no progress at home. Someone is always hungry 5 minutes after eating a lovingly prepared feast, there is always more laundry, however many times I pick up there is always debris all over the place.
When I go to work, I know that the books I need, the cds, the
pens etc will be exactly where they are supposed to be.
There is no Bermuda Triangle sucking everything in, as we seem to have at home.
When the clock hits a certain time, I am done.
At home it appears the kitchen is always open, as is the pharmacy and the bathroom door.
So going to work gives me a sense of achievement, of competence of being one with the Universe, that I can carry home and my children can benefit from .
So you can see why I want to go.
why I was pretty miffed that I would have to cancel and put a
number of other people out in the process to deal with a non -sick child.
Anyway I took the day off and went to battle with the child, who despite seeing the Grim Reaper coming for her, refused to go to the doctor.
I coerced her into the car, saw the doctor who more or less said
maybe you should go to the bathroom , or maybe it is cramps.
Then I spent the rest of the day with an angry child, who having narrowly escaped death, ate enough to kill a strong healthy horse. She was angry with me because I didn’t BELIEVE her.
I pointed out that she was not in fact sick, a fact supported by a doctor, a man with a medical degree, a stethoscope and a white coat, and also by her voracious appetite somthing that one usually finds lacking in people with chronic and debilitating stomach pain.
I wonder if my kids draw names out of a hat or something, to decide whose turn it is to worry me and make me feel entirely inadequate and imcompetent.
” Ooh Kevin, you haven’t worried Mama sick for a few days, you take Friday…..”