Ok, seriously, how do you working moms do it?
The last two mornings, I've had to cart Jordan to the vets, drop him off, worry incessantly that our neglect is sending him to an early grave, get off work, pick him up at said vets with instructions and conflicting reports as to whether he's going to recover from this episode, take him home, encourage him to eat and drink, watch him like a hawk, and keep his little, but hefty sister from playing with him. Haven't had time to read or knit, or pack myself a decent lunch. We're doing everything we can, and it still may not be enough for his kidneys to rally. We can't even tell if we're headed in the right direction until he gets that 2 weeks of antibiotics into him. Right now he's eating more human food than cat food and washing it down with Whiskas cat milk and, in a starling new development, toilet water. He followed me around this morning, talking a bit and seeming a shade more upbeat, but we've definitely got a long road ahead. The vet suggested separating Fig and Jordan so he could acclimate better, but as we live in a 2-room house, that ain't the most feasible suggestion. Which does suck a bit though, because Fig follows him around like a little sister to her big brother...but her idea of play involves pouncing on him and grabbing him around the neck. So we did separate them quite a bit last night when we were feeding Jordan or when it seemed like he needed space without pestering. I pray it's enough.
I ask how you working moms do it because I realize that this doesn't even really compare to how it is with a kid. The only thing I take heart in is that if my kid were sick, at least I'd have insurance. That's a no-brainer. My niece is about 3 months away from losing her Medicaid benefits, and I'll bet money her parents aren't dealing with it. That absolutely baffles me, and with Les's and my medical issues, it stands to reason that we'll never not have medical insurance. So at least the financial burden of illness wouldn't be as bad, which would leave more time and energy for worrying. And while you're at it, why not earn some money, put a nutritious meal on the table every night, and not fall to pieces...
Gotta go buy more food for mr. picky...he's been thumbing his nose at regular cat food in favor of Oscar Meyer turkey and ham.