I’m in that quandary where you’re at home with a sick child and wondering what to do with them.
I have my eldest who has been looking grey for days and complaining of ‘not feeling very well’ (I do love a bit of non-specific ailing). I figured a day of rest would do her good and being my day off, this was an opportune time to do it.
So, we’re at home, she seems as right as rain and I need to pop to Sainsburys before picking up my son. And herein lies the guilt.
We will be seen.
Yes, unless I magically acquire the power of invisibility (my chosen super-power btw) we will be spotted and there will be looks of:
Shouldn’t she be at school?
Well, yes, she should but she’s ill.
Not too ill to come to Sainsbury’s, eh?
No, nothing infectious.
So she should be at school then?
Well, I thought she needed a rest.
So why are you bringing her to Sainsbury’s?
I need food, goddammit, food! We have no milk, the Shreddies are few enough to count and I need bread.
Is that a bottle of wine in your basket?
Great mother you are.
And there we have it. Me vs my subconscious. And it wins every time. In reality I’m sure the patrons of Sainsburys are far more interested in picking up the latest 3 for 2 than worrying about the contents of my basket or the presence of my daughter. It’s the same when it’s me who is off sick, you know those days when you feel too crappy to go to work and be all chipper and productive but well enough to make it to Costa for a pick-me-up latte? In my head I am wearing a T-Shirt with ‘Skiver’ written on the front. Just googled them. They exist. SEE?
What makes is worse is that after food-shopping we have to go and pick her brother up from school. This involves her wearing a big hat and skulking down low in the car while I dash to pick up my son without any of her friends or teachers seeing her. Not that it would matter if they did, they know I have no choice but to bring her, but it feels like she may as well be blowing a raspberry and going ‘na-na-na-na-na’.
Is it just me that goes through this utter mania? I have an uncomfortable feeling it might be.
And you’re passing all this paranoia on to your kids?
Here we go again…