So, it turns out that for his birthday, Andrew got more than he wanted. He has now come down with a whopper of something, most likely strep. That does not bode well for the rest of the household, especially at this time of year, because I can't stay home in these first days of school. Daddy did sick duty today and took the little guy to the doctor, and will stay home with him again tomorrow. That's awesome, don't get me wrong--from what I hear, many dads either can't, or won't, stay home with their sick kids--but I feel guilty as hell for not being able to do it myself.
It's a double whammy, because Andrew is now in preschool. One that we pay for, regardless of whether he's there or not. So there goes 3/5 of this week's tuition, right down the drain. They have this rule--a good one, mind you--that says that kids can't return to school until 48 hours after a fever has subsided, so technically, I can't even start planning when to send him back yet. I'd love to think he'd be up for it on Friday, mostly because I want him to feel better, but also because I hate to disrupt his schedule so much so soon after he's gotten in the swing of things. He picked up this crap somewhere, and besides us, they're the only people he's been around. Some parent sent their little kid in there to contaminate everyone, and because Andrew was fresh meat for the germs, he's the lucky winner.
So, I sit here right now, exhausted from being up with him at 4:45 and then jumping through all kinds of hoops all day, hoping that my scratchy throat is from telling 95 kids how and when I want them to sharpen their pencils, and NOT from the strep that I will probably end up with regardless. I can NOT get sick, for many reasons. School starting is the first reason, that's a given. Mommies can't get sick--that's number 2. The whole house shuts down for a while when that happens. And number three is that my doctor's license was suspended yesterday for a plethora (34, to be exact) of offenses, running the gamut from sexual misconduct with patients (umm...yeah, that's a whole new kind of heeby-jeebies, trust me) to smoking pot in the office and on call and writing random prescriptions for all kinds of fun controlled substances to his patients. Mmm-hmmmm. At this point, I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted that he didn't grope me and push pills at me, (although I'm leaning toward relieved--I'd be the one in trouble right now if he had, because I'd have DECKED him if he'd touched me).
Add to all this joy and frivolity the fact that I have not eaten more than 3 total grams of carbohydrates in the last two days, and it's all very, very interesting. The hubby, my sister, and I all started Phase 1 of the South Beach Diet on Tuesday. Phase 1 bans all carbs as part of a sort of detoxification. Now, it's not so bad...so far, we've come up with some interesting and yummy things to keep ourselves distracted. There are times of the day when I get really hungry, and to satisfy that urge, I take solace in a delectably low-fat stick of string cheese. The fact that I haven't attacked the last four cupcakes left over from Andrew's party on Sunday is a bloody miracle. Actually, all I want to do right now is lick the icing off all of them and throw the cake away. Mmmmmm...with a nice glass of cold milk! But no, I'll be good, even if the other two are cheating, and I know my sister is, because she drank a beer tonight. Grrrrr...
I do feel different, though, and whether that's lack of sleep, resuming a screwed up schedule/going back to work, the fact that I'm probably getting sick, or that my metabolism is jump-starting itself remains to be seen. Whether I lose the eight to twelve pounds in two weeks that they advertise is irrelevant. At this point, it's a point of pride for me--I can do it! For now, I'm going to go get a glass of milk before bed--but I'll have to tiptoe past the cupcakes before they see me and start calling my name.