Buddy's been sick this week. Hubby and I have been splitting the last three days between working and staying home with the boy.
Poor little guy has had a fever and has just been feeling pretty punk. Today he seems to be on that edge where he isn't well enough to go to school, but staying home seems almost unneccessary. Until he 'crashes' that is. I can almost tell the moment the "orange medicine" begins to where off.
A little while ago, he crashed.
I've been adrift in that gray "Working Mommy" area for the past few days. Worrying about the boy -- Should I take him to the doctor? Is he wheezing? -- not sleeping well, listening for him, making sure he is resting comfortably.
People are tense and fully-scheduled at work which makes me feel like I should be there pitching in, but feeling like my contribution is minimal at best... which in turn makes me feel like "they" think I'm not performing as I should. When I'm at work, I'm getting things done, and making lists on the side of things I need to do at home.
At home, I'm not able to fully help my boy when he says "I no like be sick, Mom." I'm worrying about him, and worrying about work. All I've been capable of doing when the kids go to bed is crashing on the couch myself.
Punkin had an "Economic Fair" this morning that she really wanted us to go to. Had this week turned out differently, I would have been able to take an early lunch from work and shoot on over to her school for that. As it was, I took three half days to be home with Buddy, and couldn't do it, even if I had gone on in to work today.
This morning, I was researching which thermometer is best, and I called in to work twice. I still don't know if I should take Buddy to the doctor or not, and I have to get ready to go on in to work in the next little bit here.
Sometimes this Working Mom thing just isn't all it's cracked up to be.