See, and here I thought I had nothing to write about. Actually, I don’t. But I’m waiting for my laundry to finish so I can hang it to dry. Damned sweaty TKD uniform. BE LESS SWEATY!!!
So, last Thursday one of my Kinders got sick. No, actually sick. As in, barfed on the playmat sick. As in, Jodi-Teacher can’t handle barf on the playmat (Official Reason #8 Not to Have Children).
Poor Esther. She was pretty spunky in the morning, but she was getting more and more quiet as the morning wore on. I asked her if she was okay… if she was sick or sad… but she said she was fine. Until singing time. And before any of you nasty fuckers can make a crack about my singing abilities – I wasn’t the one singing at the time of the barf-incident. So, you shut up. I know that I’m not any good… but I’m not ~that~ bad either (or, at least, my moms says I’m not that bad). We were actually playing Hot Potato when Esther just quietly sat herself down on the mat (and she wasn’t "out" yet) and then proceeded to yack. I proceeded to panic and called Lily AND Judy into the classroom, citing the "I don’t deal with barf" law that I had just, at that moment, invoked. They gathered up Esther and brought in the mops. I left for lunch.
Regardless to say: I didn’t eat rice at lunch that day. Do you need me to detail why?
When I got back from lunch (with about 10 minutes to spare) I looked into my classroom and there was Esther, laying on the freshly mopped mat. There was no one to really watch her, and she was still not well, so they threw her back in my room and told her to lay there. Well, that’s crap. Poor kid. So I laid down on the map beside her, just hanging out. And when the kids were released from the big gym at 1:30, they all came and laid down on the mat with us. Then we finally got our act together to do "Science". This is the kid’s favorite part of the week, and Esther was so sick she couldn’t take part. Judy gathered her up and took her out of the class, saying that her mommy was coming to get her. Well, that was cool, because Science that day happened to be wet and noisy ("The Priniciple of the Water Gun"), and this poor, queasy monkey really needed to go home. After Science, I packed the kids up to go home and herded them out the door. Went up to the front desk area.
And Esther was still there.
This kid yarked all over my room at 12:25. And it is now 2:25 and no one is there to pick her up. And she is sitting at the front area, crying. And so I ask (in more polite phrasing, I promise you moms), "Where the fucking hell is her damned useless mother?"  And am told that Esther’s mom figures Esther will be fine on the bus home.
Yes, fine. This poor, wee, six-year-old girl, burning up with fever and sick to her stomach. Crying because it is hurting her so bad. And then the worst thing ever happen.
My "maternal whatevers" kicked in.
I couldn’t take it that this poor kid was sitting there crying, obviously wanting her mommy to come and take her home. So I picked her up, put her on my lap, and sang to her for the next 10  minutes, trying to soothe her.
And before any of you can take a crack at THAT… it worked. She stopped crying and was nearly asleep. And she was so hot! Poor girl felt like she was on fire.
And I would never admit to being so nice to a child (because, as you all know, I hate the little bastards), but I was caught doing it by my co-workers anyway so I might as well confess to it.
And I feel as though I haven’t completely given up my dark side, what I sang to her over and over as we waited for her bus was "My Girl" by Nirvana.
This doesn’t mean that I like kids now. It doesn’t make me a better person. But it does make me feel like I should go out and do something evil to try and wash away the glow I felt knowing that I had made that little monkey feel better. BLEH!
Good thing my washing machine just sang the "Your Laundry is Done" song or I might have further confessions to make. Stupid wine + sleeping pills. Making me chill out just a wee bit too much.

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