Daycare worker: Hiiiiii.... (with pouty frown on her face)
Oh,oh. This can't be good.
Daycare worker: Well it seems that Baby has had a bit of a rough day. He's coughing, (what's new?) he's sneezing, (what's new?) and he had a fever of 102 (oh, that's new).
Me: Ok, but he seems fine now, at least. (thank god)
Daycare worker: Actually, his fever has come down and he has really perked up, but...(she pauses) just know that I hate to do this to you (another pause).....our policy states that a fever over 101 means Baby can't come to daycare for 24 hours. I'm really, really sorry. I know Baby has missed a lot of daycare these past few weeks.
Me: That's ok.(I smile weakly at her) I have lots of sick days. (I have 5 per year. And it's only January.)
So this whole sick day debacle and family time off has really got me riled up. I mean, for the most part (without regards to a year off for maternity leave) the workplace is really not designed for working moms (and dads). What the hell am I going to do with 5 (now 4) sick days per year, when Baby seems to average that in only a couple months time? OK, ok, so husband has a great job, with great benefits, and actual "family leave" in addition to his sick pay. But what about mom here? You know, the person who actually carried and birthed the wee one? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. What's up with that? (que SNL skit)
What can we do to make our jobs more family friendly? How can we convince the patriarchal policy makers at the top that a happy mom means a happy employee? Statistics have shown that working moms are more efficient and work harder after returning from maternity leave. This is in part to their huge effort to get all their work completed so they can spend more time at home. Hmmmm, makes sense. And yet, I still feel like I have to call in "sick" cough cough instead of telling my employer about my ill little boy. Something just doesn't seem right about this.
I've talked about this before. see: blog post about my rant and rave over inaccessible childcare. And now I feel like I really need to take action. Anyone care to join?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
We wish you a merry sleep.
Me: Vaaaacaaaay!
Husband: Hells to the ya! I need this. We need this.
Me: Ummmmm.....what the Rudolf is this?
*I peer curiously at baby and my eyes quickly scan the rest of his face.
Me: I think he got bit last night. Strange, it seems to have gotten him...(I furiously add up the little red dots that mark baby's face) like 8 times. Sweet baby Jesus in the manger.
* I carefully lift baby's pjs from his belly and gasp. No, no, no. It couldn't? Not on the first day of our Christmas holidays?!
Yep, baby had chicken pox.
What the eff? The world still has chicken pox? This so called childhood right of passage still inflicts North American homes? Isn't there a vaccine for this? Why yes, yes there is. And if you are following the vaccination schedule, then your 15 month old has indeed been vaccinated for the dreaded pox. But, if you are like me and just a teeny bit behind on your vaccination schedule. then beware: the pox could be headed to your home. Swiftly, I went into panic mode and memories of my 8 year-old itchy, spotted self flood my brain. How in god's name are we going to get through this? What about all of our Christmas plans? What about the baking, the shopping, the pictures, the family, the friends, the daycare Christmas recital? Wait, the recital?! The recital where Baby has a starring role playing none other than Santa himself?! But he's been practicing his "Ho, ho, ho," all week!
Breathe, mama, breathe.
Let's face it, life throws you giant curve balls and really, I have no idea what that even means. I guess what I am trying to say is that sometimes life is unpredictable, situations unavoidable, and sometimes it's just downright crappy and in no way can you prepare for it.
Take the next two weeks for example. After being quarantined with baby for a week, celebrating a wonderful, but brief interlude of Christmas joy with the family, we endured anther week of the flu (myself included in that little germ fest). It was pure misery through and through. We passed the time between Sesame Street on Youtube and Maury Povich. Honestly, we had reached and all time low and just as I began chanting, "Big Bird, you are not the father!" I began to feel like myself again. A sure tale sign you are beginning to feel human again: You look around your house with disgust AND you actually start cleaning. And cleaning we did. With bleach.
So what can I say of my sad story? What lesson can be learned? What health wisdom can I impart?
Nothing. Next year, I want to go to the Bahamas.
Husband: Hells to the ya! I need this. We need this.
Me: Ummmmm.....what the Rudolf is this?
*I peer curiously at baby and my eyes quickly scan the rest of his face.
Me: I think he got bit last night. Strange, it seems to have gotten him...(I furiously add up the little red dots that mark baby's face) like 8 times. Sweet baby Jesus in the manger.
* I carefully lift baby's pjs from his belly and gasp. No, no, no. It couldn't? Not on the first day of our Christmas holidays?!
Yep, baby had chicken pox.
What the eff? The world still has chicken pox? This so called childhood right of passage still inflicts North American homes? Isn't there a vaccine for this? Why yes, yes there is. And if you are following the vaccination schedule, then your 15 month old has indeed been vaccinated for the dreaded pox. But, if you are like me and just a teeny bit behind on your vaccination schedule. then beware: the pox could be headed to your home. Swiftly, I went into panic mode and memories of my 8 year-old itchy, spotted self flood my brain. How in god's name are we going to get through this? What about all of our Christmas plans? What about the baking, the shopping, the pictures, the family, the friends, the daycare Christmas recital? Wait, the recital?! The recital where Baby has a starring role playing none other than Santa himself?! But he's been practicing his "Ho, ho, ho," all week!
Breathe, mama, breathe.
Let's face it, life throws you giant curve balls and really, I have no idea what that even means. I guess what I am trying to say is that sometimes life is unpredictable, situations unavoidable, and sometimes it's just downright crappy and in no way can you prepare for it.
Take the next two weeks for example. After being quarantined with baby for a week, celebrating a wonderful, but brief interlude of Christmas joy with the family, we endured anther week of the flu (myself included in that little germ fest). It was pure misery through and through. We passed the time between Sesame Street on Youtube and Maury Povich. Honestly, we had reached and all time low and just as I began chanting, "Big Bird, you are not the father!" I began to feel like myself again. A sure tale sign you are beginning to feel human again: You look around your house with disgust AND you actually start cleaning. And cleaning we did. With bleach.
So what can I say of my sad story? What lesson can be learned? What health wisdom can I impart?
Nothing. Next year, I want to go to the Bahamas.
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