Cough cough cough

...actually, I should title this "Bad Mommy #897." I spent today, my day off, trying to put together a Christmas Day story for the newspaper since I am working that day and need to come up with something live to write about. Then I went to lunch with my friend Amy and her son Tony. Then home again, a short nap, and on to the hair salon to get my shaggy, out-of-shape hair cut short enough so I don't have to go back for three months.

Sometime during all of that, I got a call from daycare, then a second call, then a call from Drew wondering where the hell I was. Turns out that Rachel had a temperature of 102 degrees and was really lethargic. I called daycare, apologized profusely and raced downtown. When I saw her I could tell immediately she was sick -- she barely noticed I was there and then plopped down in my lap just wanting to cuddle. Usually she stays there for about a minute and then it's on to something else.

I was practially crying when I started talking to the daycare attendants. They said Rachel was fine in the morning and then in the afternoon seemed listless, which is how they figured out to take her temperatue. Her poor little head and cheeks were so hot that I got scared and asked them over and over again if I should take her to the hospital. No, they said, just give her some baby Tylenol before she goes to sleep.

When I took her home she perked up a bit and even ate some applesauce, shells and jarred food. She tried to bring her diaper bag over to me and when I told her it was too heavy, she started crying. I took her into my lap and began cuddling her, then continued on the couch. Worried that she'd fall asleep, I drew a lukewarm bath and she almost dropped off wrapped up in her towel in my arms. I quickly changed her into a light sleepsuit and she fell asleep as I was singing her lullabies. (I sang an extra song and read her an extra book because I felt so bad that I had missed all the calls to pick her up. How could I? What is WRONG with me?).

I have a trial to cover tomorrow that starts at 9 a.m., meaning she needs to get to daycare at 8 a.m. This morning she slept until 10 a.m., which should have warned me that something was off. But she seemed her usual cheerful self.

I hope this is nothing serious. But I can't help worrying, especially because Drew is in Seattle and I am on my own tonight and tomorrow night.