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May. 28th, 2008 09:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_rck::grumbles:: Last night one of the pre-school mothers e-mailed everyone in the class, asking for someone to take her assist today because she's sick and so are two of her three kids. I e-mailed back to say that I would, but I haven't heard back.
Should I assume that she got someone else and doesn't need me? Or has she not seen the e-mail and I should call? Or is she assuming that I'll do it and doesn't think she has to confirm? Having two sick kids and trying to take care of them alone while sick oneself isn't conducive to sitting in front of a computer, waiting for e-mail. I wasn't surprised not to get a response last night, but I am surprised not to have one this morning.
This mainly matters to me in that it determines what I take with me to pre-school. If I'm assisting, I'll try to take in a toy that we've been wanting to donate to the pre-school (and have kept forgetting to take in on days when Scott and the car are available). It's big but not really heavy. If I take it out of the box, I think I could get all the pieces in my backpack. Of course, if I'm not assisting, I'll be using the backpack either for books or for my laptop.
I'm hoping that I'm not assisting. I want to write. I got something started while Scott and Delia were in Chicago. They spent two nights visiting relatives, and I spent two nights staying up late and writing (I do my best writing between about 9 p.m. and 3 a.m., not something compatible with looking after a small child). My biggest gripe about the weekend was that Scott originally planned to come back on Sunday but changed his mind without telling me. I guessed that he might because driving 5+ hours to get there, spending one night then turning around and driving 5+ hours back is stupid, but he didn't tell me. As it got later on Sunday, I was more and more worried. I hadn't heard that they were staying, and I hadn't heard that they'd started home.
Then, about 10:30 (9:30 in Chicago), I got a tearful call from Delia who'd completely melted down. I wasn't sure who was on the phone at first because she was in the stuttering stage of sobbing. Poor kid. She was missing me. She and her cousin had some serious troubles centered on both of them wanting to be in control, and her cousin had control of the territory (and, Scott suspects, her father had a lot less experience at getting children to deal fairly with each other). So, at bedtime, they played a while, but there wasn't a place for Delia to sleep in her cousin's room (that her cousin would let her sleep). Then her cousin said some mean things and fell asleep. Delia went into full meltdown. She wanted Mama *now*. She wanted Mama not to be allergic to cats. She wanted to be home.
I talked soothing nonsense to her over the phone while she cuddled with Scott, and she eventually calmed down. I didn't yell at Scott for not calling me earlier. I wanted to, but we were both focused more on Delia.
She was fine the next day. They got home a bit after three on Monday then took me out to dinner for my birthday. Dinner wasn't much fun because of various things with Delia which mostly weren't her fault-- two long trips to the bathroom, a spilled cup of lemonade, and her wanting to stay under the table in spite of the puddle of lemonade.
Should I assume that she got someone else and doesn't need me? Or has she not seen the e-mail and I should call? Or is she assuming that I'll do it and doesn't think she has to confirm? Having two sick kids and trying to take care of them alone while sick oneself isn't conducive to sitting in front of a computer, waiting for e-mail. I wasn't surprised not to get a response last night, but I am surprised not to have one this morning.
This mainly matters to me in that it determines what I take with me to pre-school. If I'm assisting, I'll try to take in a toy that we've been wanting to donate to the pre-school (and have kept forgetting to take in on days when Scott and the car are available). It's big but not really heavy. If I take it out of the box, I think I could get all the pieces in my backpack. Of course, if I'm not assisting, I'll be using the backpack either for books or for my laptop.
I'm hoping that I'm not assisting. I want to write. I got something started while Scott and Delia were in Chicago. They spent two nights visiting relatives, and I spent two nights staying up late and writing (I do my best writing between about 9 p.m. and 3 a.m., not something compatible with looking after a small child). My biggest gripe about the weekend was that Scott originally planned to come back on Sunday but changed his mind without telling me. I guessed that he might because driving 5+ hours to get there, spending one night then turning around and driving 5+ hours back is stupid, but he didn't tell me. As it got later on Sunday, I was more and more worried. I hadn't heard that they were staying, and I hadn't heard that they'd started home.
Then, about 10:30 (9:30 in Chicago), I got a tearful call from Delia who'd completely melted down. I wasn't sure who was on the phone at first because she was in the stuttering stage of sobbing. Poor kid. She was missing me. She and her cousin had some serious troubles centered on both of them wanting to be in control, and her cousin had control of the territory (and, Scott suspects, her father had a lot less experience at getting children to deal fairly with each other). So, at bedtime, they played a while, but there wasn't a place for Delia to sleep in her cousin's room (that her cousin would let her sleep). Then her cousin said some mean things and fell asleep. Delia went into full meltdown. She wanted Mama *now*. She wanted Mama not to be allergic to cats. She wanted to be home.
I talked soothing nonsense to her over the phone while she cuddled with Scott, and she eventually calmed down. I didn't yell at Scott for not calling me earlier. I wanted to, but we were both focused more on Delia.
She was fine the next day. They got home a bit after three on Monday then took me out to dinner for my birthday. Dinner wasn't much fun because of various things with Delia which mostly weren't her fault-- two long trips to the bathroom, a spilled cup of lemonade, and her wanting to stay under the table in spite of the puddle of lemonade.
