strep throat and swim lessons

You know what's really great about the summer?  You aren't living for the weekend.  And if your weekend is a bust because you have a horrible case of strep throat it isn't the end of the world because work on Monday is a non-issue.

That's me.  The girl with strep throat.  And my tango with this hellacious infection probably wouldn't have been so bad if I had gone to the doctor Thursday afternoon when my throat started hurting.  Or even Friday at some point.  But that didn't happen.  Thursday I convinced myself that it was my allergies, and Friday morning Reese and I had eight million errands to accomplish, and so late Friday afternoon I was ready to concede that I was dying but no doctor was open.

And Friday night was long.  And full of feverish tears, sweatshirts, and pain.  And Lofton suggested we go to the pediatric clinic and ask them to see me.  Which in hindsight is kind of funny, but at the time was not funny at all.

Saturday morning Lofton had to work, so Reese and I managed to make it to urgent care in Auburn.  Where it took all of five minutes for the doctor to conclude I had a very severe case of strep throat.  I got an extremely large shot in my hip, which Reese found to be highly entertaining, and a lecture from the doctor on the dangers of letting strep throat go untreated.  Thanks Doc, the fact that I can't swallow or talk due to the swelling was my first indication that maybe I misjudged my allergy issue.

And then I took Reese to the lumber yard to stay with Lofton and went home to bed.  Where I stayed all day.  And the boys brought me a Chick Fil A milkshake and horse sized antibiotic pills.  Yesterday was marginally better.  And by marginally I mean I didn't entertain thoughts of death and I moved from the bed to the couch.

But this morning I feel almost normal.  Kind of like my throat hurts from my allergies.

That's good news because we have swim lessons this week.  Every single day.  And a plan of action.  This year Mama is going to sit in the car.  I think that will help things to go a little smoother.  For some reason I bring out Reese's dramatic side. 

And because, as you know, we believe in incentives there is a pet goldfish waiting at the end of the swimming lesson rainbow.  Reese wants a pet fish and we told him he'd have to earn it.  By being a fish himself.

See how clever we are? We basically could write a parenting book.