Man, I hate going home during the day

11:15 phone rings....tiny, nearly inaudible voice

dad...

::sigh:: I know what that means every time I hear it. Oldest Girl has a very low threshold of pain...well, scratch "pain" and make it "discomfort," which itself might be too harsh. Even the slightest bit of "not perfectly acceptable" that can possibly be an excuse for a) getting to check out, b) missing a particulary icky class, or c) avoiding someone, conflates into awe-inspiring levels of sheer agony, which prompts a trip to the school nurse, which prompts a call to mom or dad, which prompts the usual series of questions:

"Hey sugar, what's wrong?"

"I don't feel good."

This is occasionally followed with descriptions of a horrifyingly graphic and complex nature in which various bodily discharges are documented as to time, amount, color, and contents. A few years ago, after these became much too regular, and it became more apparent that there was more than a hint of malingering about the whole story, and the fact that there were absolutely no witnesses to these episodes, and the fact that a trip home or to Grandma's house was more beneficial than the miraculous cures found in the Gospels in both immediacy and efficacy, we decided that it would be best to hedge our bets and let her know that no matter how much of her innerds came flying out, if it wasn't accompanied by a fever of 100 degrees Fahrenheit as measured by the nurse, she would have to suffer through her math or science test like a big girl. That won us few points, but did cut down on the trips across town.

"Where do you feel bad?"

"I don't know. All over."

Again, usually these things aren't specific, and I am sure are much seen better in person in order to get the full effect of the mopey gaze, the slow shuffling walk, the pained grimaces. Today, the answer was more specific:

"My stomach."

Hmm. I asked if she had eaten lunch, knowing that sometimes cafeteria food can be truly distressing, and was told that she hadn't, then it was time for the Big Question: "Do you have a fever?" As stated before, she knows that a verifiable "yes" means sweet release, "no" means back to the salt mine.

Today was no. I asked to speak to the nurse, whom I have come to know on a first-voice basis. She is invariably chipper and nice, and understands well the way of middle-schoolers. She never comes right out and says "She's fine," but if I suggest that it might be better for her to go back to class, I usually get something along the line of "That's probably going to be best."

Hard to be a kid when all the adults are always conspiring against you.

Today, I am informed that it's not a stomachache, but cramps. Yes, THOSE cramps. It is at these times I wish she had at least a tiny bit of Reba's astounding, superhero-like capacity for absorbing bodily pain. Obviously, the nurse can't give Oldest anything for the pain without our written instructions, and come to find out, she has told Oldest on several occasions that she should get her parents to send something to school for her to take for THOSE cramps. As I told the nurse, first I've heard about it. I guess I should have continued to pay for those mind-reading lessons. In any event, I got Ashley back on the phone and told her that I would be there in a little while with some medicine.

"okay"

Off to Trussville, turn into the pharmacy, walk purposefully to the feminine products aisle with all of its wonders for keeping the girlpipes working right, and spent a nice few minutes shopping among the various available products. I knew that it would need to say something specific about THOSE cramps--just plain storebrand ibuprofen would NOT do, and finally settled on something with MAXIMUM STRENGTH with lots of detailed descriptions about the magnificent cures it could accomplish. Went to pay for it, narrowly avoiding being seen by a lady I go to church with (too much explaining to do, not enough time), paid and drove over to the middle school, went to the office, left the bottle and a note of dispensing descriptions, got some lunch at Sonic, and came back here.

"Effuse."

E-F-F-U-S-E.

"Effuse." The word Oldest spelt correctly the other day to win the spelling bee.

Ironic, huh?

(My only hope is that the word that stumped her opponent doesn't somehow work its way into the mix. "Pheasant.")
posted by Terry at 12:37:00 PM