Pinkeye

I may have yelled at K more this weekend than I have in his whole life. I'm usually pretty good with the gentle discipline, but when the child is trying to kick you as hard as he can while simultaneously yanking a poop-filled diaper out from underneath him, it's not the best time for a discussion about consequences.

After a contentious weekend, I was relieved when Monday rolled around. I wiped K's goopy eye, ignored JW when he said, "Are you sure he can go to daycare? His eye looks bad!" and attempted to drop him off anyway. I'm not winning Mother of the Year for that one, but at least I had the decency to turn right around and take him home when Mrs. Daycare apologetically said he couldn't stay. (Although she also mentioned that at least one other kid was home with pinkeye, so I think the contagion ship has sailed.)

I steeled myself for another day of fighting with a cranky toddler who couldn't go anywhere for fear of contaminating other kids, and fretted about missing work (damn you, billable hours!).

But K was perfect all day. His eye didn't seem to bother him at all. We hung out at home, ate popcorn, danced to "Particle Man," drew pictures of snowmen, looked at engines on the computer, and spent about twenty minutes running up and down the driveway. He stayed calm through FOUR poopy diaper changes, remained within five feet of me and didn't attempt to eat or destroy anything during a long wait at the pharmacy, and brushed his teeth voluntarily. He even suffered through three applications of eye ointment without a single tear.

By the end of the day, I started to envy stay-at-home parents. (By the way, I love this column about stay-at-home moms.) But I was still happy that JW had agreed to be on baby duty the next day so I could go to work.