Dear parents at my kids’ daycare,
There is a very nasty and extremely contagious gastroenteritis virus making its rounds in the school. I’m sure you have heard about it. The school has consistently and diligently kept us updated on the situation.
Did your kids get the bug?
Mine did. And you know what? I KEPT MY KIDS HOME.
The equation is very simple. A very sick child is a contagious child (I’m not talking about the common colds and coughs). It means that my child should stay away from other children in case he spreads the illness to the other kids (and teachers) in the centre. Some of whom have parents who work and therefore will be extremely inconvenienced if their kids fall sick.
And that’s just the logistics part. Let’s talk about the comfort of the poor sick child. Have you had gastroenteritis before? It’s awful. My kid was vomiting every 60 to 90 minutes. Without fail, like clockwork. He was extremely miserable and rightly so too.
He was MISERABLE. And being home with mummy, in the comforts of his bed and surrounded by his favourite things, made him feel better. He was better off at home, not in school.
So my question to you is: Why would you refuse to pick your child up from the centre when the teachers call, telling you that she isn’t well? Why in the world would you say, “well she was fine at home so just monitor her condition please”?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.
Look, I get it. It is extremely tedious when you have a sick kid. Believe me when I say that my heart stops every time I received a call from the daycare when I’m working, in the middle of a class etc. It means having to rearrange all your plans and schedules. And I freely admit that I am lucky to have the support of our parents.
But even if we don’t, between the two of us, my husband and I would have worked things out. Because our kid is sick. And we would not want this illness to pass to his unwitting classmates. And we would want our little boy to be home and snuggled up in his bed. Not in the cold cold environment of the daycare where he has to share the attention of his teachers with 20 other kids.
To abscond responsibility of your sick child and palm off her care to her daycare is despicable. Inconsiderate. And an act that’s probably on the scale of Agent Orange Muppet running for US President right now.
And in case you didn’t get the message earlier, here it is again: Stop being a selfish douchebag.
If your job is time-sensitive and requires you to be physically present, I get it. If your boss is an unforgiving piece of crap who frowns at your absence, I get it. It’s tough and I salute you. I do. And I hope your children stay healthy and strong.
If you are someone who has the resources but refuses to take your kid home because “she was well at home”, then hey, I hope your kid wasn’t the one who threw up all over mine in school.
Because YOU are an asshole. And you need to learn to be a little more considerate: to your kid, to the daycare and to the other parents.
Yes. You read that right. Please don’t touch my baby. Before you write me off as a rude and selfish mother, please read on.
Whenever we are out with Elliott, we will inevitably encounter a stranger (or 5) interacting with him. It can range from funny faces in the lift (ok) to trying to carry him (NO BLOODY WAY). I’ve also had many strangers, both females and males, reach out their hand and naturally, the son will grab their (WHERE HAVE YOUR HANDS BEEN?!?!!) finger. Sometimes, he decides to stick THAT stranger’s finger INTO his mouth.
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You know how they say that it never rains but pours? Yeah, well, things have been a little sucky around here.
Remember how Zac was admitted to the hospital for six nights? Once we were discharged, the husband and I breathed a sigh of relief and prayed that this would mark the end of our sick cycle. Seriously. Having two virulently ill sick babies for the past two months is no walk in the park, we are both exhausted and incredibly, well, sian to the max.
We left the hospital on Thursday. Lo and behold, once the weekend rolled around, Aidan started running a temperature. The next day, spots started appearing on his trunk and back, and I thought it was merely a viral rash. He hadn’t been to school for more than a week and so I didn’t think that it could have been HFMD.
Except that it was HFMD.
Exactly a week ago, the husband and I were sitting on the sofa, worried sick.
Our Zac was running a high fever and he was, frankly, scaring the hell out of me. I have seen viral fevers in Aidan and while some of those temperatures were high, Aidan had always been a happy camper despite being ill.
Zac, however, was not his usual self. His eyes were closed and he was grunting with every breath that he took. He did not want to nurse and when he opened his eyes in response to our voices, he seemed to look right past us. His little body was curled up in a foetal position and it was so, so hot.
We finally brought him to the hospital at 11pm and our paediatrician admitted him immediately. That night, I held him to my chest as he slept, fitfully, while Aidan slept clutching my leg. The husband was sprawled on the glider next to the bed in the high-dependency unit.
It was a horrible, horrible night. So much went on that night, and we were this close to having Zac warded in ICU.
We stayed in the hospital, Zac and I, for six nights. During those days, I didn’t step out of the hospital and barely saw sunlight. I had to be there for him, 24/7. The husband brought Aidan to see us every evening and the farewells made me heavy-hearted.
But in the midst of all these, I was thankful for many things.
Warning: This post contains graphic pictures of hair loss. And hair.
Everyone talks about post-partum hair loss. I was warned that it would usually take place after baby turns 3 months old. I enjoyed thick luscious hair during pregnancy and was praying hard that perhaps, this hair loss fiasco wouldn’t hit me but lo and behold, the moment Elliott hit the 3 month mark, I noticed that my hair was falling excessively. My scalp was also oilier than normal. It was particularly horrifying when I shampoo my hair and would notice (with horror) that the amount of hair fall was so acute that it would clog up the drainage hole in the bathroom and water couldn’t flow through properly.
To illustrate that point, just take a look. This would be the typical amount of hair shed during one hair wash.
HORRENDOUS OR WHAT?!