I got the Call Of Doom from school around lunchtime today. Just as I was about to eat my sandwich I’d bought earlier, as well as finish off all the planning which is needed for next week, the busiest week I’ll have in a long time.
H was in the school office, she had earache. As the lady said, it’s not like her to be unwell, and indeed, almost an hour later when I’d called Shaun to get him to book an appointment at the doctor, while I picked up the car from the garage where it had its MOT as we’d need to drive to the docs, my poor baby wasn’t herself at all.
Got her home to find we have no Calpol or Nurofen, so had to walk to the chemist, where we stocked up. A Nurofen dose later and she’s asleep on the settee while I try to catch up with work. She eventually woke, cuddled up and fell asleep on me again, before we headed to the doctors, who agreed, she has an ear infection but it should clear on its own.
Shaun has already said he can take tomorrow off if needs be, which is a good thing. I can’t. I can’t take any time off next week either – and I’m pretty sure Shaun can’t either.
Which is when you realise just how sucky it is when your child is ill, you want and need to care for them, and something important is happening at work which makes it awkward. Ultimately, H comes first, but that’s after working out who will do it. There’s nobody else here who can help.
Which makes me wish there was. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to hand her over to someone and go to work, but it’s just the lack of family support here. Sure, living in London is our choice, but given we both don’t like London any more, I wonder for how much longer?
Oh yeah, I finally ate my sandwich at 3pm. Bloody hungry, I was.