S is sick with a virus, and has been for a few days. His birthday is tomorrow. Since his temperature was 102 this morning at about 8:30am, he'll have to be in bed the entire time. Fantastic.
He's actually not feeling THAT bad. He's puny and wants his mommy (that'd be me, in case you just tuned in or have no reading comprehension skills whatsoever), and his stomach is bothering him a bit. He has headaches sometimes. That's about it. But it's a huge cardinal sin to send your child to school when they haven't been over their fever for 24 hours. And believe me...the other moms FIND OUT. One little girl got sent to school last week before she'd been fever-free long enough, and got shunned like an Amish girl with an iPod. The other parents who were there having lunch with their own kids were acting like she was Typhoid Mary. Which is kind of understandable, but...kids get other kids sick. It happens.
Anyway. S is not going back to school before he's supposed to, because I just don't do that.
So we're holed up in my bedroom at the moment. J's mother is visiting, and she's elderly so she shouldn't be catching viruses all willy-nilly. She doesn't listen when we tell her to stay out of the room where S is, though, so I have us both barricaded in here with the door shut. She might get offended, but I'd rather piss her off than live with the fact that she caught a virus from my kid that could seriously compromise her health.
Plus she's doing stuff like making constant comments about how she's going to teach me to cook, demanding to know how I clean the kitchen floors, and then wondering where the mop and broom are because "I see a lot of dirt here, and I don't want J to have to clean it up." Also, we go through way too many clothes over the course of a week, and I shouldn't be feeding S macaroni and cheese, and I SHOULD be giving him aspirin (which young children are never supposed to have). And she felt the need to ascertain that I actually possess a thermometer when I mentioned that S had a fever. And she wants me to eat something. And she wants me to put on some socks. And she wants me to change into something warmer/cooler/more comfortable/whatever. And she has actually used the phrase "no excuses, young lady!" While talking to me. My OWN mother has never said that to me, for god's sake. It's like I'm this child living with her son, whom she must take it upon herself to raise "correctly." Because the fact that he is involved with me apparently entitles her to do that.
In the midst of all of this, and apparently in spite of my glaring ineptitude, she wants me to spawn, that I may present her with another grandchild. I know. Makes TOTAL sense, when she doesn't seem to think I'm doing such a bang-up job with the one I've already got, or with the way I'm running my life in general.
She means well...she means well...she means well...I know she means well. She's still a cake-walk compared to The Ex's mother, and I know it's partly the idea that she's staying in her son's home, but I wish she'd remember that it's also my home, and even though J and I have been together for quite awhile, I don't know her near as well as I do him. Even if I did, at 33 years old and having been raised by a fantastic mother, I'm not particularly in the market for another one. I'm not really sure what it is about having a son that makes a mother do this kind of thing to the person their son chose. And it does seem to apply more to mothers of sons than mothers of daughters, so I'm terrified that I'll be that way too.
What's everyone else's week looking like? Calmer than mine, I hope?
two words for you: Marie Barone.
and how 'elderly' is 'elderly'? heehee.
Posted by: reese | 03/05/2007 at 08:51 PM
And you don't want to expose her to germs because...why?
Posted by: jan | 02/28/2007 at 06:03 PM