A Ferris Bueller (aka Grant Lane) Day in 2008
Grant enjoying the zoo (a few years prior to our Ferris Bueller day off)
I just experienced a new first in parenting. For years I’ve received phone calls informing me of sick kids. These calls have ranged from babysitters worrying about fevers to a pink eye alert from the grade school nurse or a high school admin calling with a sick teenager in the office.
Today the sick call came directly from my college son. He had gone to the university medical office after getting sick and was diagnosed with a severe case of mono. Instead of trekking to a daycare or grade school, I instead picked up my oldest son from college and brought him home for some needed recuperation.
On our drive home, I reflected on the many trips I have made to retrieve sick children over my nineteen years of parenthood. One memory of a particular sickness gave me a smile. The ‘sick’ child was an eight-year-old Grant and the call came from grade school.
Grant had a long history of a weak stomach with a horrible gag reflex (i.e. he threw up all the time not due to sickness, but being ‘grossed out’). And he wasn't my only child with this issue. His big brother, Ben, set the stage with this strange family trait. Anything from a runny nose on another child to someone with ranch dressing dripping from the corner of their mouth would cause these boys to instantly puke. Typically these episodes would occur with little or no warning.
A story that demonstrates an ordinary day with my two gagging children involves my making them tater tot casserole. Although they usually would not get sick at the same time, in this instance I had the unique experience of double the fun.
As a point of reference, my brothers and I loved tater tot casserole as children. It was a simple dish we found delicious. With four ingredients (ground beef, canned string beans, cream of mushroom soup, and tater tots), we could easily make on our own; a staple on our dinner menu.
I decided to treat my kids to my childhood gourmet pleasure. At the time of my tater tot casserole experiment, Ben was 7 and Grant was 3. Instead of their anticipated delight, the boys cried in disgust at this food offering, begging me not to make them eat it. I stuck to my guns and insisted that everyone at least give it a try. The result was Ben heaving on the kitchen table over the thought of eating this mixed concoction and then Great throwing up at the sight of Ben’s throw-up.
Simply going to school and daycare provided many gross-out opportunities for my weak stomach children. Kids chewing food with their mouths open, Doritos licked off of fingers, open wounds, discarded food in the garage pails…all resulted in my kids gagging and then throwing up. I had no idea there were so many ways that food and bodily fluids could exert themselves in ways to gross out the boys. But as I quickly figured this out, so did the school nurse, Mary.
Mary became exasperated from the number of times she needed to call me after a throw-up incident. As she knew their history, our discussion would center on whether the boys were actually sick or if they saw something that made them sick. As a preventative strike, she asked that I write a letter for their file explaining their queasy stomachs. Our hope was that this would alleviate school protocol to send them home sick after a throw-up incident.
Appreciating Mary’s resourcefulness in this work-around, I also wondered if in her twenty years as a school nurse if she ever asked another mom to write such a letter. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
Once I wrote the requested letter, I stopped receiving sick calls from the school office. This changed when the school nurse went on vacation. The phone call came on a sunny day in May while I was busy at work.
School: “Mrs. Lane, this is the school office. Grant is sick. He threw up and we have him in the office. Please come and pick him up.”
I glanced at the clock….11:30. Grant’s designated lunch time was 11:15.
Me: “Oh, have you talked to the school nurse? There is a note in his file. He throws up all the time. I bet something happened at lunch.”
<pause>
School: “Mrs. Lane, Grant has thrown up. The nurse is off today. If a child throws up, he is clearly sick. You need to pick him up and take him home.”
<silence>
How could I explain to the somber woman on the phone that my decision-making wasn’t my choosing work over a sick child? I sensed an uphill battle in convincing the office staff of my family abnormality.
Me: “Thanks. I will come and get him.”
Following my short drive to school, I went in to collect Grant from the school office. Surveying the visible health of my eight-year-old, my motherly instincts surmised that the child was in perfect health. With a smile to the lady at the front desk, I simply signed the appropriate paperwork and walked out the door with healthy child in hand.
Heading to the car with Grant at my side, I asked the obvious.
Me: “Okay, what happened at lunch?”
Without missing a beat, Grant explained the whole luncheon episode in exasperation.
“Mom, Mackenzie Moody stuck mandarin oranges up her nose!!! It was sooooo gross.”
Mandarin oranges up the nose, of course. At that point, I knew a conversation on the worthiness of puking over mandarin oranges in the nose would gain nothing. Pondering what to do with my healthy child newly banned from school, I decided to seize the day.
Grant and I were now both free agents, away from all work and school responsibilities. I declared the afternoon a field trip day and we went to the zoo. With Grant still in his school uniform and me in my business suit, hand-in-hand we enjoyed the perfect loveliness of our quiet afternoon together. Free of interruptions and activities, we ran the zoo that sunny afternoon. There was no more puking and it was the best sick day spent with my non-sick, weak stomached little boy.
