Child Care Equals Stress

One of the most stressful parts of parenting for me is child care. Organizing it, worrying about it, finding it, scheduling it and worst of all, reacting quickly when arrangements fail.

This morning, Griffin's preschool called and told me I had to come and get him. They thought he had pink eye.

I just saw him this morning, and while one of his eyes had some redness, it isn't pink eye. I told the school this. They did not agree with my assessment. I asked if there was any discharge. No discharge, but still It. Is. Pink. Eye. I must come and get him immediately.

I call Chris's cell phone and get no answer. (humpf.) I call Griffin's doctor to schedule an appointment to have him seen this morning to ensure we get the eye thing under control. After I explain Griffin's symptoms, the receptionist at the doctor's office refuses to schedule an appointment for Griffin. She refers me to a nurse. I speak to the nurse, who, after my explaining Griffin's symptoms as seen earlier by me, and now relayed by his school, tells me emphatically, "I can not write you a script. He doesn't have pink eye."

Great, right. I tell her that perhaps, to be on the safe side, can I just have the drugs for pink eye anyway? I bet you can guess what her answer was, right? No. No drugs for the illness he doesn't have, but that the school believes he has. The nurse suggests I buy him some Visine. Perfect.

I quickly pack up my computer, my files and leave scribbled instructions with my paralegal. I race out of the office to pick up my allegedly "sick" child. This "sick" child who seriously has one patch of red in his unrunny, undischarging eyes and is now jumping on his bed in his room refusing to nap. Yes, I should get lots of work done from home today, thank you very much.

I fear for the school if they do not allow him back tomorrow. Seriously. Fear.