Charlotte felt a bit warm last night. I took her temperature… 100.5. Eh—not so bad. We’ll see what happens. She’s probably fine, right? <—Denial. Deep parental denial.
Naturally, she woke up extra miserable this morning. Her voice was raspy, she was coughing, she couldn’t stop cry-whining (that’s a thing, in case you didn’t know), and her temp was 101.4.
Last week, I had to leave early to take Charlotte to a dentist appointment that we had already cancelled and rescheduled once before due to illness.
Two-ish weeks ago, I had to call HR from our locked, pitch black lounge because I was collapsed in a heap puking into a trash can with the worst migraine I have ever experienced.
Three-ish weeks ago, I sat in my boss’s office and explained that I needed to leave because our household had just been diagnosed with scabies and a) it is contagious, and b) I need to go pick up prescriptions and then get home and wash every last inch of everything. (Long story on that one. I just about fell out of my chair when my doctor called that day.)
Just before that, I missed work to deal with Ratgate.
Before that, I was sick.
Before that, Charlotte was sick.
Basically, all of those events in a row made for an unhappy boss. He was as gracious as he could possibly be, but I can read between the lines. I was being flaky. I knew it. I’d be really frustrated if one of my own employees was throwing up the constant excuses that I’ve been, so… yeah. Not winning any employee of the month awards right now. There is no denying that I am not really pulling my weight at the moment.
And now, Charlotte is sick. Again. And there is no denying her sickness, so I can’t even feign ignorance and send her to school anyway.
Our former nanny is unavailable. My in-laws are both terribly sick, so they can’t come up to help. My dad can handle a few hours here or there, but he cannot change a diaper or deal with anything more complicated than changing the channel or going to the park. The last time my mom caught a Charlotte-virus, she was down for over a month. Her immune system is shot and I can’t let that happen again. Catch
What are parents who work outside the home supposed to do? I get 5 paid sick days, which is great, but it’s not great if I have to use them all in January, and it’s really not great if management rolls their eyes because “she’s out again.” There is so much I could say about this, but I’m too tired and stressed to be articulate and feminist-y. Something’s gotta give, and it can’t be my paycheck.