So Stella has had some issues adjusting to school. While most of those seem to be working themselves out, in Pavlovian fashion I still begin to sweat when my cell phone rings and it’s the school. Mind you, the first 2 weeks I received no fewer than 4 calls to either come pick up my kid or arrive in time to have a discussion about behavior. Then there was the suggestion that maybe she should only go half days for a while. No matter. We pressed on and many of the original complaints seem to have dissipated to a large extent.
But I still get calls and they still freak me out. And sometimes it’s just little comments when I pick her up.
Last Wednesday, I got a call about an “incident” on the playground. As the principal (or equivalent title) began to tell the story, I’m already looking for my keys and shoes, certain that I’m about to have to go pick my child up early. Not this time. She had apparently just run headlong into a railing outside and had a knot on her forehead. They didn’t think it was serious. They were trying to apply ice (Scoffing. Much scoffing. Good luck with that. This is the kid that will not take medicines or allow anything medicinal to touch her body – even cold packs.). They just wanted me to know. I kind of felt like an uncaring ass for just saying, “Oh, that’s fine! She’s tough.” When I picked her up that afternoon, there was a little bump. No biggie. But the principal pulled me aside to comment, “You know, she has this cough…..Have you noticed?”
Yeah, lady. I’ve noticed. She coughs at night, especially. It’s a dry cough. She has no other symptoms. She used to never cough until she started attending your Petri dish – oops! I mean school.
Here it is about a week later. I get another call. It’s diaper rash. It’s a diaper disaster. There is no cream in her bin; that is our fault – a bit of a communication breakdown between mommy and daddy and whether or not the diaper bag would be left or the main contents jettisoned into her bin each week. After the principal describes the rash (unnecessary), she just hangs there on the phone. What am I supposed to do? I’m at the office, nowhere near a diaper bag or drugstore. I start to sweat and feel the need to play defense. “Well, had you called 10 minutes earlier, her father could have brought some. When I changed her before work, she was fine. “ Meanwhile in my head I’m cursing Will. Didn’t he see anything before he dropped her off? And if not, how did it get so bad in under 2 hours?!
I finally mumble that I’ll see if I can catch Will, and if worse came to worse, call me and I’d come pick her up. Ridiculous, the idea of having to take leave for regular diaper rash. Will was on his way to work, of course, but thankfully Oui Oui and Will’s grandmother were there. Oui Oui was able to buy a tube – just for the school – and drop it off while Will’s grandmother stayed with Felix (they don’t have a carseat base for his carrier yet, so are kind of home-bound if it’s just one of them).
But I still feel awful. And a little angry. I’m starting to feel a bit persecuted by these people. I guess every other kid there is a Stepford child with a full pharmacy in their bins. Or better yet, they don’t ever get rashes or coughs, either.
That’s bullshit. Little Audrey has the most revolting green goo pouring from both nostrils EVERY TIME I SEE HER. It’s been weeks and weeks, Audrey’s goo. I wonder if her parents get called almost daily?
I’m on the verge of telling the principal, hereto forth the Town Crier, that she can lose my number unless A) it is a REAL emergency, or B) she’s calling to tell me how awesome my kid is, that she’s glad Stella is part of her student body, and that she can’t wait for both of my children to attend.
There. Sorry. I feel better.