Never Judge The Smell of An Ailing Seagull--Ever!

Picture it—a crisp, autumn day. All of em off to school with the right backpacks, no forgotten library books and we remembered who needed sneakers for gym. After a carefree drop off at nursery school, I am headed to the wildlife rehabilitation center to do my monthly magazine interview—what a life!

I arrive without incident and immediately after I am greeted by one of the friendliest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, I am nearly knocked off my Reeboks by the most wretched stench I’ve ever encountered (and I have 5 boys in my life!). It was the combination of ailing seagull, lame goose and tattered pigeon. Yowsa! After I wiped the tears from my eyes, I transitioned into breathing in through my mouth (a little trick I learned years ago while changing all those diapers for over a decade) and stoically conducted my interview (which, by the way, was truly fascinating). Had no idea that people kidnap baby deer and try to raise them as pets, did you? In any case, it was a delightful morning and when the gal that I interviewed sat down to eat lunch with her patients, I decided that was a great time to make my exit.

I quickly scurried (gotta use verbs like that after visiting a wildlife rehab center!) back to the nursery school to fetch Annie, only to be told by her teacher that she was not acting like the little chatterbox that she usually was and just wasn’t quite herself. Ought oh!
We make it home to the comfortable confines of our luxurious chenille sofa (or so it was once upon a time) and no sooner do I sit down to shell peas for dinner, the phone rings.

It was my long-lost travelling husband. I know how much he misses us when he’s away so I prepared to park it for a while and chat about the week, but not in this case. The school nurse had just contacted him in Poughkeepsie (don’t ask) to say that our 3rd grader had just thrown up in PE class.

I immediately have a flashback to earlier that morning when he is doubled over and clutching his stomach saying how much it hurt. I’d seen this before during statewide testing week…not a chance pal…..you’re going to school!

Off we go to get him, Annie, myself and my very guilty conscience. No sooner are we out of our neighborhood, I hear a strange gurgling in the back seat. “Annie, are you OK, honey?” BARF!! AND SOME MORE!! AND YET AGAIN!! Not only is my guilty conscience along for the ride, I’m now hauling a sick 3-year old who has managed to throw up all over herself and the entire backseat including the notebook I’ve just used on the interview at the Seagull infirmary.

The self-to-self pep talk begins. “It’s OK, Cheryl. Breathe! You’ve been through worse-- it’s only a little vomit. Just keep driving and soon, you’ll have both sickies back home, perched on the couch with his and her basins."

In I scamper (there I go again!) to the school clinic and there he is, lying on the couch—white, pasty and the first words to escape his sick little mouth are “I told you I shouldn’t have gone to school today”. Thanks kid! Say it a little louder—don’t think the principal heard you that time.

Well, payback’s a bitch. Before I can gently caress his sweaty little brow, I hear a lot of chaos in the hallway. Oh my--it’s my 4th graders class lining up behind the petition with all the puking—the nurse is now donning latex gloves and is armed with a bag of popsicle sticks. Dear Lord, she’s checking them for head lice.

She asked me why I was suddenly so pale. “I cannot go on living if I am about to have the stomach bug rip through our household of 10 and also have head lice to deal with” I gasp. “Call the men in the white suits and tell them to take me away, do you hear me?”

Am I in the middle of a bad dream, I wonder? No—this is your life Cheryl. It’s OK, Brian will be home to support me. Oh wait—no—he’s in Poughkeepsie on business, remember?

Within minutes I learn that my kid does not have lice, and I come down off the ledge. Back in the car we get, and home sweet home we go. Life lessons can be so cruel—but the two I’ve got registered now are believing my poor kids when they have green complexions on a testing day and never again will I judge the smell of an ailing seagull! Ever!