Sunday, August 22, 2010

Six Years Old and Stressed

Fiona has a week off before she starts school. Real school. Kindergarten. In a public school, that is real and that is certified. Did you know that not all schools are certified to teach kindergarten? Don't get me started.

So Laura took her to visit her classroom and meet her teacher. It went well, from what I could tell, from the phone call right after. Which I picked up after one ring because I was dying to hear how it went.

We got the best teacher, whom we had requested. Only the best for our sweet Fiona. She has been very nervous about this upcoming transition. She has regressed. i.e. has peed on the floor and has thrown tantrums and has transformed into a child I barely recognize. Plus, she's become very itchy. Mosquitos? We don't know.

But now, she's on vacation for 5 days at her grandparents' farm. She LOVES it there. She loves her grandmother, who plays with her and focuses on her and is, frankly, the most perfect grandmother you could hope to get.

Plus, Fiona gets yogurt and M&Ms and pretty much whatever her stomach desires. She loves her grandfather also. Although she's afraid of him. Because he's large and has a large voice and growls sometimes, but he's sweet. She's just not used to the growling.

If they didn't live 3 freakin long hours away, we would ship both Fiona and Cyd over there on a regular basis, not because we don't want to hang out with our children, but because they have a better house and wide open spaces and dark skies and a creek and deer and beautiful sunsets. And they don't have neighbors that like to blow up things just to hear a loud noise. In fact, they don't have neighbors. Period.

A few hours after the drop-off, Laura's mom called saying that Fiona's itchiness had gotten worse. She had large, red welts all over her body. Betty (we call her Grandma Betty, a retired nurse and long-time family friend), came right over. This was an emergency. Fiona had hives. Stress-induced hives.

When I called the doctor on call, he was so very bored with my very boring and non-life-threatening medical emergency. This is very common with children, he said, in such a monotone voice I wanted to slap him through the phone. My heart was racing with worry and separation anxiety.  Well, it's not common with our perfect, happy, carefree, precious child. (Speaking of which, I was watching the movie "Precious" at the time, which heightened my maternal pangs.)

She was fine the next day.

And tomorrow is the first day of school. I wonder if I should just inject her with Benadryl now, to keep the hives at bay.

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