Back in Daycare, back in poop and booger land…My kids and I have been sick, I’ve been sick for over a week, I’m coming around now, but I’ve had a very rough time. My son has been neck and neck with me with this virus, but he pulled out ahead last night. After he went to the bathroom, I had to call my husband to come and look at the color of his feces, as it was chartreuse. We then debated about chartreuse being an actual color, and then he wanted to know what language it originated from and so on…but that aside, we had to call in sick yesterday (my son and I) because of fevers for both of us (and he “frowed up”), and today was a hard, hard day.
When we arrived (7 minutes late), my son looked like he’d been on a 42 hour long hike in the Alps. His eyes were crimson, he had a fever of 100, he wouldn’t eat and was wearing the clothes he had worn the day before. I wasn’t far behind, minus the fever, and wearing my uniform. Once the day got going though, his fever broke and he was a contender – running, jumping, kicking the ball, commanding people to do what he said (they don’t but he tries), etc. I had ZERO patience with the kids, it wasn’t my best performance, but I made it to the moment I will now describe without throwing up or passing out (though I came close to doing both several times).
This boy who is usually busy making poor choices in life and ignoring all codes of conduct, was hiding under the table during snack time. This being so odd, I had to find out what was up, and when I got close, I realized what was up – he had had an accident and it smelled pretty rank. I took him to the bathroom and was changing him and as I was cleaning his legs, the toilet, the floor, his feet, etc, somehow a large plop of diarrhea landed in my hair. I felt it hit, and I thought, with utter horror, “GOOD GOD, NO.” I looked in the mirror, and yes indeed, where a nice barrette might sit, or perhaps a daisy in the summertime at a festival, was a big round splat of diarrhea. I cleaned it with a wipe and dry heaved, continued to clean and dress the child, and continued to work for the next 2 and a half hours.
I can’t help but question my choices in life on days like this. I can’t help but think I should’ve been a lawyer or something, I should have taken that Dairy Queen Manager position in Texas, I should have skipped college and graduate school all together, I’d probably be sporting a feces free hair do, living on a ranch, making bank right now. No, I’m making $10.50 an hour to wear poop as an accessory with a Master’s Degree. It’s comical, really.
And until the state of Ohio thaws to something other than a glacier, I will continue to hate life here, with much gusto. Hopefully without diarrhea in my hair, though.