The secondary ear infection and its tertiary effects

I was just about on my feet again.  I've been out of bed almost all day, even did a wee bit of gardening and some sewing. I was doing the dance of sick leave/disruption to 57+ people if I'm not at work/problems of going back to quickly and being sub-standard for much much longer/are my kids sufficiently healthy to return to school.  You know that dance?  The one that gets trickier as people get to marginally well again status?  I'd settled on going back to work tomorrow for the most essential 2.5 hours and requesting permission to go home early instead of doing the next 2.5 hours part which is normally compulsory but doesn't impact on others if I'm not there.  That would give me the opportunity to go up to the primary school and check on the kids and bring anyone not coping home with me to rest for the afternoon.

Well Brighid just sorted it.  She's been extremely out of sorts all day, culminating in when she slammed the door so hard that the lock broke (bad bad bad.  Thank goodness Favourite Handyman is so very handy).  The kids had both been cavorting round not following instructions at the time, so they were both sent to bed straight after dinner (which of course Brighid didn't eat anyway).  A few hours later, as she starts wailing and describing pain in her ear, the penny finally drops to explain her erratic nature all day.  She has almost no threshold patience-wise but a high pain threshold for physical pain (yes that will be my daughter).  We did the eardrops and she is in the big bed again.  I've got a long history with ear infections myself and there is no way she is going to school with one.  Given that my own health is still quite marginal, it makes sense for me to be the stay at home parent tomorrow.

Although I have a well established tradition of wittering on about minutae on this blog, I've also shared this part of today's story because when I've read Deborah's stories of juggling work and sick children on A Bee of a Certain Age (here and here), I have so appreciated the concrete feeling of recognising all those different objectives (loving available parent, reliable competent employee for those who employ me, reliable talented teacher for those I teach, nurse, juggler extraordinaire) at play in some one else. 


Deborah said…
One of my Misses Eleven is named Bridgid. Not quite the same spelling as your Brighid, but so very similar, all the same.

I very much agree about sharing the stories of the minutiae, especially of the day-to-day juggle that parents in paid employment face. I *can* do it all, and manage, but it's draining. Not so much physically as emotionally. I think it's good to share the stories, for a moment of solidarity, and to let other people know what it's like.

PS. A few weeks ago, my mum was delighted to find that I had linked to your blog. She found Letters from Wetville a few months ago, and she has been enjoying it very much.
Scott said…
Sorry to hear you're all crook, Sandra - get well soon! Brett Cross' family had the same problem last week - and at the same time had a burst pipe which left them without running water! I used Cross' miseries to make myself feel better about our winter sniffles here in West Auckland...
Sandra said…
Thanks Deborah and Scott. We are slowly returning to the land of wellness, the children especially.

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