Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Fevers, Sour Stomachs, and Little Green Aliens

When children are small there is no questioning as to the validity of their symptoms.  When they have a 102 fever or they're coughing up green aliens, it's pretty much a slam dunk.  The older kids are the questionable ones.  They always seem to have the mystery illnesses, the sour stomachs, the headaches, the constipation - the maladies that can't be verified with a thermometer or a sink full of something gruesome.

Take for instance my 12 year old son, Austynn.  He is a hypochondriac.  If I twist my ankle, he has to have his x-rayed.  It is an unspoken rule in this household that if there's something wrong with you, i.e., a toothache, a minor paper cut, a pinched nerve, you do not - UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH - comment about it in front of Austynn.  If so, after you die and while I'm planning your funeral, Austy will be in my bedroom showing me a developing staff infection under a fingernail from where he was folding a paper airplane. 

Let's pool these paragraphs together shall we?  I have a hypochondriac who hates school and wants nothing better than to stay at home.  Yesterday, his stomach hurt immediately prior to getting into the car.  I snapped at him to be quiet and to stop complaining.  Not one of my better moments but he'd been whining all morning and the prospect of listening to him for another moment was beyond my sanity.  He took two steps towards the car and an entire breakfast sandwich, banana, and cup of milk came flying out of him.  The dogs charged for an instant meal.  Life is gross.  I pushed them back into the house while Austynn looked down and commented that it was a waste of a perfectly good breakfast.  "Go upstairs, Austynn, change into your pj's and put your barfy clothes into the bathtub."

"I told you I was sick, Mom".

Deep sigh.

I remember having this same conversation once with my son, William when he was 8 years old.  I was still a relatively new mom so I had a bit more of an excuse.

"I don't feel so good today, Mom."

"William, the only way you're getting out of school is if you you barf on your teacher."

Less than an hour later I received a phone call from school.  William had vomited on his teacher.  Deep sigh.  Well, I didn't like the woman anyway. 

2 comments:

Leigh Ann said...

While I'm sure it was not funny at the time, I am laughing my a** off right now! That incident happened so years later when your friend was having a particularly frazzled morning w/5 kids (my 2 & 3 extras) & 2 puppies, and she really needed a good belly laugh!
xoxoxoxoxo

Brenda said...

Yucky morning. We need to get together soon for a break.