I would like to thank The Academy. And the Milwaukee Brewing Company. And great pediatricians.

One of my teens volunteers her time to care for toddlers and pre-schoolers during the week. It thrills me that she is kind to little children, but... little children are basically very cute and precious little germ factories. Darling, but potentially deadly considering the pathogenic little (snot)bubbles in which they exist. The poor things. My sweet J came home ill on Friday. Sunday morning she complained of a stiff and painful neck and I immediately began to freak out. I know that this is a sign of spinal meningitis and that it can progress extremely rapidly and kill or cause brain damage. Of course she has been vaccinated, but that doesn't mean she can never catch any form of this disease. Those of you who know me might be shocked that I did not have a panic attack and call 911 or haul the child off to the hospital emergency department. Well... I still panicked, but... I simply (drank and then) called the pediatrician and did what I was told to do. I had the husband drive us to a pediatric urgent care clinic recommended by our pediatrician (after I took great pains to cover any alcohol smell), who requested that the doctor there call him right away to apprise him of the situation so he can follow up himself. Turns out my baby simply had a sore and stiff neck because her lymph nodes are properly responding to... a simple sinus infection. Got all the meds to fix up the babe. She will be toddler-less this week while she gets well. And for next week... I got her some probiotics and a neti-pot as well (all approved by the doctor).

As phobic as I am, my worst fears are actually of bad things happening to my children. This has been a bad couple of days. BUT I MADE IT TO THE DOCTOR. I made it and I communicated everything I needed to in order to insure the right treatment for my child. And NOPE, this was not a drunk mom slurring her words and looking like a retard. Sadly, the beers I slammed made me MORE competent because they made the others inside (who are so-scared not-mothers) pass out so I could take over and do what I needed to do. I even helped the nurse when the pulse/ pulse ox monitor was malfunctioning. It was all wacky and reading a pulse that was not even possible. I walked over and put my fingers on the child's wrist for a few seconds and said, "Well, it's a bit high from the pain and general illness, but it seems about 120ish to me." She thought I was a nurse, too, but I assured her I am not and am simply a regular business person with unwanted medical knowledge from unfortunate sources of previous experience. She checked the pulse manually and it was... 120. Yeah, I know what I'm doing, know what I can't do and know when to call the pros. I got this. I GOT THIS.

And so, we are okay. We are okay. I will just keep repeating it: WE ARE OKAY. Maybe eventually I will believe it. I need to believe it DEEP DOWN. I have trouble with that concept. I always have. But I still hope for something better than how I have been feeling inside.