Chalk and Cheese Chronicles

8 Missed Calls Can't Be Good

I'm at Hobees, catching up with some friends (one who had some great news to share!) when I reach into my bag for my cell phone to check the time (I don't have a watch) and see I've missed 8 calls.

"Uh-oh, " I murmur, "This can't be good."

I go through the calls quickly. The first is from my boys' preschool teacher. Instantly, I assume one or both of my boys has gone on a hitting rampage at recess. But it's not that (whew), it's my Cheese Boy and he's been hurt. It's noisy at Hobees and I find it hard to change pace from the lightness of laughter with friends to the alarmed voices which spark through my phone. 

He fell from a slide...

His arm is hurting...

He vomited...

I call the preschool, and then my husband and tell them that I'm on my way. I'm not terribly concerned at this point for my boys take tumbles all the time but I prudently dial the pediatrician to see if I can get Cheese Boy in. I'm told they can't see us until 3pm and I say I'll take the slot. I bid adieu to my friends then drive through annoyingly heavy pre-lunchtime traffic toward Cheese Boy's preschool.

The drive seems to take forever.

When I finally reach the preschool, Cheese Boy is in his Dad's arms looking washed out and expressionless. The preschool director and a concerned mom of a classmate tell me he's lethargic and seems to be a little more out of it than he was initially. It seems he had hit his head as well. I look at my normally chipper little guy and for the first time, feel alarmed.

"Let's head to the ER, " I tell my husband, as I steer the car into the rush of noontime traffic.

Forever and a day later, we check into the ER. Cheese Boy is better, smiling a bit and responding to all our questions, even reciting his phone number. We are lucky, the ER is not busy. Nurses and technicians pop in and out of our partitioned quarters. Grandma shows up with brand new dinosaur from D&J hobby. Cheese Boy grins. He is clearly relishing all the attention.

A nice female doctor with curly hair enters the room and looks Cheese Boy over. He provides detailed answers to all of her questions. We laugh because we know his injuries probably aren't serious if he can be so engaging. The doctor notices a bit of swelling on Cheese Boy's right arm, near the elbow. He should have an xray of that arm, she tells us, and also one of his head because of the vomiting.

Cheese Boy is excited to be getting an xray. He wants to see his bones! He's beyond pleased when he discovers he gets to travel to his xray via a wheelchair! Daddy goes with him. I send Grandma home and then leave to retrieve my other little guy (Chalk Boy) from preschool. Juggle, juggle.

At preschool, Chalk Boy is disappointed to see me. If I hadn't shown up, he'd have gone to the home of a schoolmate for a play date. I lure him back to our car and interrogate him because no adults had witnessed the fall. Chalk Boy immediately says that a boy from the other class had pushed Cheese Boy over the slide. "Really?" I say, "Are you sure it was that kid?" The kid in question doesn't seem nearly as physical as my boys, so I'm surprised.

I drop Chalk Boy off with my parents and zoom back to the hospital to rejoin Cheese Boy, his new dino and his dad. He is clutching spiderman stickers, a gift from the hospital. Cheese Boy has been discharged, with orders to watch him carefully and administer Tylenol as needed. He is ravenous and devours the snacks I've brought.

In the car, I question Cheese Boy. "What happened? How did you fall?" His story corroborates that of his brother's. He'd been climbing UP the slide when a kid from the other class pushed him over. He names the boy and the names match. The boy is someone whose name they rarely mention so I know they are telling the truth.

Still, I'm wise enough to know not to judge. Having been the mom to two active boys for 4 years, I know that tables could have easily been turned. On another day, my boys could have been the one to send a kid tumbling over the sides of that slide. Oh how I know it.

After the incident later that day, the preschool explained the playground rules to all of the students. Hopefully, it won't happen again.

I can't wait to see the ER bill. Maybe I won't be so forgiving if we get stuck paying a sizable amount of money. But seeing my boys happy and healthy is, of course, priceless.

Original post to Chalk and Cheese Chronicles. Akemi also blogs at SV Moms Blog and Mad About Multiples.

Can I be sick today?

Cheese Boy has the sniffles.

"Maybe I'll keep you home tomorrow, if your cold worsens, " I tell him as I tuck him in at bedtime. Don't want to pass germs on to the entire preschool.

His sleepy eyes twinkle with hope, "Really?"

Then he drifts off to sleep, dreaming of a nose full of snot.

In the morning, I find crumpled pieces of used tissue stuffed into the space between Cheese Boy's mattress and his bed frame. "Rough night, " I surmise.  But Cheese Boy's nose is only a little bit leaky.

"Do I have to go to preschool?" he asks me.

"Let's see how it goes, " I say. "But it does not mean you get to do anything fun. It means that you'll have to stay home. Perhaps even in your bed."

We do our usual morning scramble of begging and pleading with my boys to brush teeth, put on shoes and leave that toy at home! Finally, we're in the car, on our way to preschool on the tardy side of course.

Once out of the car, my boys race each other to their classroom. They're happy, mingling with their friends and checking out the morning's projects.

"OK, Mom, let's go, " Cheese Boy announces, pulling my hand.

"So you're not feeling well. Really?" I ask.

Cheese Boy forces out a cough.

"Alright, you can stay home with me. Let's tell your teacher."

We inform his teacher, bid a temporary adieu to our Chalk Boy brother and saunter out the door. And I do mean saunter. Sick people do not saunter.

Once out in the fresh air, Cheese Boy looks up at me with a big, satisfied grin. It's the grin that says, "We really pulled one over on everyone, didn't we?"

He skips off toward the gate, filled with glee. He is not so sick that he can't go to school, but I feel like following his lead. "Let's go out for breakfast!" I'm about to say. As twins, my boys so rarely get alone time with either parent, so I relish the days when I get to be 1:1 with one of them, even if that child is under the weather.

As we get to the parking lot, we run into a girl from his class and her mother who are just arriving at school. They look surprised to see us leaving. "He's, um, sick, " I explain, my fingers signaling quotation marks. "Sick."

"Oh, come on Cheese Boy, come with us, let's go to school, " they say, cheerfully.

"OK, " he replies and turns back around, following them to class.

"We're back, " I explain to the teacher and to his brother.

Cheese Boy scoots off in search of his friends.

I head home, missing my little "sick" boy. He'd have made terrific company at breakfast. I drive home, replace Cheese Boy's box of tissue with a fresh one and plunge into a morning of housework.

Maybe Cheese Boy will be sick again tomorrow.

Original Chalk and Cheese Chronicles blog post.