Pertussis - also known as whooping cough - is making a comeback. California, in particular, has been hit hard. Our county has the second highest number of cases in the state. Which means, of course, that my children got it.
I don't know what it is about The Gingers. They practice a Field of Dreams philosophy: If it's out there, they will get it.
Both children are vaccinated on schedule, a decision that will forever ban me from the ranks of Crunchy Granola. Our pediatrician assured us that the vaccines will reduce the severity of their cases and that they should stop being contagious after five days of antibiotics.
Which means I have two healthy-acting children who erupt in coughing fits a dozen times a day and who are under quarantine.
During my first week back at work.
It also means that I got to be The Most Hated Mom in the county when I sent out an email yesterday saying, "Hi guys! Thanks so much for coming to Elizabeth's birthday party! Besides the cute little party favors, your children also brought home exposure to pertussis!" Or something along those lines. And while I'm sure that their heartfelt exclamations of "oh no!" are entirely sincere, I'm also sure that there's a little part of them saying, "Damn it!"
So...we get to juggle work schedules, re-fill vaporizers, administer antibiotics, take antibiotics and wait for a clean bill of health.
Oh...and Elizabeth is cutting her molars.
Where's my wine?
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