Mother of the Year

So there I was in the middle of yet another crazy morning at work today trying to write a speech before it had to be given and battling 27 different battles for other things that had to be done too. I'm on the phone when my cell phone rings. I don't recognize the number, so I send it to voice mail. Then my desk phone rings with the same number -- yeah, it's a fancy phone and I can see that kind of thing.

I put my current call on hold, annoyed that I'm being stalked by an insistent stranger, and pick up the other line.

"Cheryl? This is Chris Williams, I'm the school nurse today and I have Alison here."

Gulp. Chris Williams. Super Mom. When she's not taking care of the medical needs of Christ the King's student body, she's one of the Brownie mom triumverate. I'm already in trouble with them.

"I'll be right there," I say.

I shut down, shout instructions and run out to my car only to remember that I'd ridden to work with Karin that morning so we could work out at dawn at the downtown YMCA. I had her car, though, and the plan was that I'd pick her up at 5, we'd get the kids and hang out as both our husbands were going to be out that evening. Crap! I don't have a car and haven't gotten the speech written and I have 27 other things to do.

I may have uttered some curse words. Who can remember such detail? I get in Karin's car, calling her as I peel out of the parking lot, knowing she'll understand my thievery. I give her the scoop. We agree that we'll figure out her way home later.

Alison was suffering the symptoms that Karin's son Alex had experienced just two days ago, so she was feeling guilty that Ali might have picked up his virus. I didn't and still don't care about that. She's due no guilt at all. Kids get sick, and those two will be comparing vomit and diarrhea stories as soon as the can.

But I'm getting ahead of the story. As I change lanes and gears, I keep an eye out for cops and call Jeff to apprise him of the situation. He agrees to figure out Karin's ride home.

I get to the school. From a corner an office away from where I am, I spy a really sad looking redhead staring wanly from her seat on the nurse's office. Of course I can't get back there because some random delivery guy was standing between me and the sign-out book. After about six hours of trying to get around his massive frame, I scribble my name and head in to get her.

Nurse/BrownieNazi Williams brings my girl to me and tells me that she'd thrown up while I was en route. "Oh, I know how hard it must be when you work," she says.

I grab Ali, try to take Chris' words at face value, thank her and get Alison home. I put her on the couch, set her up with hugs and kisses, water and a remote and dash into my office and get back to work.

Work crap ensues while the cartoons roll. I'm starting the speech when I hear, "Mommy?"

She starts to retch. I run in to her. We deal with the vomit. She curls back up.

I go back to the desk. Thirty minutes or so later, "Mommy?"

I go in. She crawls on my lap, pitiful and really sick. And experiences her first bout of diarrhea as a young girl. Oh yeah. She's still on my lap.

It was a fun afternoon. I got the speech done, but there are still at least 25 things on the plate despite the valient efforts of the team back at the office, vomit and diarrhea-free but stressed out from having to totally reprioritize their day.

But hey, that's what they pay us for, and in the end it will all have been worth it.

As for Ali, she went to sleep at 5, finally. Just in time for me to have to get Alex and Hannah under the plan Jeff had devised. I run next door to get my neighbor to watch Ali sleep while I get Team Ogden. I give them the scoop. Alex cops to potentially being the carrier after Hannah puts the facts together.

"But I threw up and had diarrhea!" he says, bragging about his time with the disease.

Initially disappointed to know she'd equalled him in the gross department, he perked up at the thought of comparisons.

Later, Ali woke up nearly 100 percent healthy, and pondered what had done her in. I told her about Alex and reminded her that she'd had a sleepover at his house two days after he had had the virus. "Viruses are tricky, you know, and I think maybe it snuck up and got you in you while you were there."

She frowned and disagreed. "But I don't sleep with my mouth open."

Jeff got home about 8:30 and asked how she was feeling. "Did you get any Gatorade?" he asked.

"No, but I did get some diarrhea," she said proudly.