My daughter has not adjusted to Daylight Savings Time. Couple that with the fact that she is still recuperating from the virus that plagued all the kids and that explains this morning. She came into my room, fell back asleep in my bed and when I prodded her to take a shower to get ready for school, she demurred and I compromised and told her just to get dressed.
She did, but then came to me rubbing her eyes, beginning to cry, telling me she had a headache. I doubted her, yet doubted myself. Maybe she really did. However, school is only half-day kindergarten and surely she could get through the day? She missed four days last week.
So, I said, fine, stay home, but you’ll have to rest and then we dropped the neighbor boy off at school. Our ride home was silent. I went back to bed, figuring my morning full of errands was shot. She went to her room and then reappeared in mine five minutes later.
“Mommy, can you take me to school?” And so I did and signed her in late.
After school, her teacher said she didn’t complain once. (Sometimes my daughter calls me from school, telling me she misses me and asking if I’ll pick her up early. I always say no.) I mentioned the headache and the teacher said she didn’t once mention it.
Later, I asked Grace, “Did you really have a headache or did you just want to stay home?” and she admitted she just wanted to stay home. However, she also admitted that she had fun at school.
You’d think that after being a parent for over fifteen years, you’d know exactly how to handle every situation. Yet, after all these years, I’m just muddling through, hoping I’m doing all right and that my children won’t have long-term relationships with therapists.
I am faking it. Don’t tell the kids.