Assumptions are a horrible thing. The whole “making an ass out of you and me” thing is spot on. And I’ll be the first to admit that I make them based on stereotypes. I work hard to be better than that, but it happens. I’m human. This morning, there was a dad who approached me to get his son’s paperwork for court. He had a flat billed baseball cap with the stickers still on it. He wore a black hoodie and sweatpants that were clearly too big. He wasn’t all dressed in what we would consider appropriate court attire, and I made an assumption about how he was going to act and speak to me based on his appearance. We get a lot of, shall we say, “colorful” characters here at the court house and it’s easy to just assume they are all the same. Unfortunately, many of them act and speak the way that stereotypes tell me they will. This man, however, was the nicest person I interacted with today. He spoke very clearly and calmly. He was very polite. He treated me with the respect we rarely get from parents who have to bring their children in. I was surprised and disappointed in myself that I expected something worse. It’s easy to become jaded while working with the general public and with people who are mostly low on the socioeconomic and education scale. It’s much needed to have a little reality check from someone who reminds you not to get to comfortable in your perceptions of people. It’s nice to remember not to judge a book by its cover.
When I was pregnant, I decided I was only going to have kids that never got sick. And for the first 3 years the universe seemed to comply with this decision. But then the past three weeks happened. And, boy, did the universe decide to remind me who’s really in charge.
It all started with Miss Mattie. She developed a runny nose which became a deep cough. My happy, active, oversmiley baby was just sitting and staring glassy eyed around here for days on end.
On Saturday, I felt like we were finally in the clear. Mattie was acting more like herself and only her cough was hanging around. Well, Saturday night into Sunday, Ellabelle made it very apparent that she had the same cold. And lucky me, I caught it too. Poor Josh had to care for her “gaggle of sick girls”.
Ellabelle’s cold seemed to migrate into her chest and she did nothing but sleep all the time. Four days after it started, we were growing more and more worried. Her fevers fluctuated between 99-102, but they never left. She hit 103 on Wednesday, and we knew she needed to go see the doctor. Josh took Ellabelle on Thursday, and they said she had pneumonia.
She got amoxicillin (“the pink stuff” as we called it growing up). My poor babies were just not themselves, and we’ve all been cranky. She’s finally feeling better, and I’ve finally started being able to breathe and taste food again.
Hopefully, it’s all passed, and we won’t have another bad spell of sickness in our house again. We’ve had the worst past few weeks. I’m so over all of this!