Bet that title got your attention, eh?
Let me tell you about this past Friday for me.
Zoey woke up with a horrendous cough–the kind that sounds like you’re going to hack up at least part of your lung. The problem is, when a toddler gets that kind of cough, it sounds ten times worse (actually, it sounds a lot like that kid on the commercial for whooping cough). I was convinced she had bronchitis or something, especially since her forehead was a little warm, her eye was super-weepy, her nose was running and she was basically just lying around instead of getting into everything, which is Zoey’s usual M.O.
I debated about whether or not to go to work–because my baby needed me–but I’m out of sick days at work and I knew Zoey would be in the capable hands of my mom for the day…I left my mom’s house feeling like the worst mother in the world because my baby needed me and I was on the way to work to write skus. Parenting fail, amIright?
Before I left my mom’s house, though, I picked up Zoey in my arms to give her hugs and kisses. And that’s when I noticed she had wet through her diaper. I sort of held her out away from me while supporting her with my forearm, which all sounds very gymnastic-like, but what it really boiled down to is that some of the pee that had wet through her pajama pants got on my long-sleeved dress-up shirt. Because I was running late (of course), I didn’t have time to go home and change and ended up wearing what I dubbed the pee shirt all day.
I was convinced everyone could smell it and that I was going to end up being known as the ‘pee girl’ at work or something. I could smell it. And even though I tried wetting the AREA with water at work, nothing helped. I smelled like baby pee. No, toddler pee, which smells a lot like adult pee (just so you know, in case you were wondering) and could have potentially made my coworkers think I had some kind of bladder problem.
As soon as Zoey’s pediatrician’s office opened, I called them and listed her symptoms to see if maybe she should be seen. I set up an appointment for four that afternoon and then broke the news to my editor that I’d have to leave super-early because I had to drive forty-five minutes home to find Zoey’s insurance card (she just got a new one in the mail recently), drive the five minutes to my mom’s house to pick up Zoey and then drive forty minutes BACK up to the city for her appointment. My editor was cool about it (thank God) and I spent the rest of the morning dreading the afternoon of way, way, WAY too much driving on the highway.
Thankfully, it went pretty smoothly. I got out of work, went home and tore the house apart to find that stupid card, got Zoey from mom’s house, got to the doctor’s office with time to spare and then sat in the waiting room for about twenty minutes until we were called into a room.
Turns out Zoey just has a bad cold, which I’m glad it’s nothing more serious, although I really wanted to tell the nurse, “Seriously? She sounds like the kid from the whooping cough commercial. And I have pee on my shirt. Can I have sticker?” No such luck, though.
I ended up wearing the pee shirt until Zoey and I got home after the doctors appointment–a little after five. And let me tell you, even though the shirt didn’t smell (even though I was convinced it did), that was a really, really, REALLY long time to wear a shirt with pee on it.
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