Running with Scissors

Sara Peterson-Davis has worked as a newspaper researcher and reporter, as well as a communications director and consultant. She and her husband, Monty Davis, can be found in Liberty, Mo., keeping their two children from running with scissors. Contact Sara

24 Hours

by Sara Peterson-Davis

A lot can change in 24 hours.

One morning last week I was sending my daughter back to bed because she was running a slight fever and suffering from a plethora of non-specific cold-like symptoms. I patted myself on the back for my keen parenting skills.

The next morning I found myself standing in the same place in the midst of a dilemma.

Should I send my now much perkier and fever-free 8-year-old back to school or keep her home one more day just to play it safe.

It’s a problem every parent of a school-aged child has faced at one point or another – how long does a fever qualify as an out-of-school experience?

Little did I know I was about to find out the answer.

I’m not one of those shove-them-out-the-door-unless-they’re-bleeding-from-eyes kind of parents. In fact, I’m pretty sure that my husband and I have one of the most lenient stay-home-sick-from-school policies around. But this particular morning I was looking at a girl who didn’t even qualify under the “I just feel icky” addendum of our policy.

Brynne still had a runny nose and a little cough, but she had gotten dressed, eaten breakfast, brushed her teeth, combed her hair and was now hunting through her backpack for her home folder. As far as I was concerned she was school-worthy.

I walked her to school, came home and did a few chores around the house and hopped in the car and left for work. Everything was health and sunshine in our little world.

That was until about 1:30 p.m. when my cellphone rang.

“Hello Mrs. Davis?” said the voice on the other end. “This is the nurse at Brynne’s school. I have her in my office and she’s running a 102.1 temperature.”

“Oh, my gosh,” I replied truly surprised. “She said she felt fine this morning. I’ll be there to pick her up in a few minutes.”

That middle part was more for my benefit. I was suddenly feeling a big dose of momma guilt for sending her to school at all. I knew I should have asked more questions, maybe run a polygraph. Why hadn’t I ordered a full blood work up, stat?

I arrived at school and my growing guilt was compounded as I stood before the fisheye lens of the security system camera. I was almost certain I could feel the eyes of the office staff on me as they crowded around the close circuit television monitor.

“Look! There she is! The one who said her kid felt fine this morning. What doesn’t she own a thermometer?”

The door finally buzzed and I made a beeline for the office.

“I got a call from the nurse. I’m here to pick up Brynne,” I said, rather sheepishly.

“Oh, hi!” the school secretary said cheerily. “I’ll have them send her up.”

I made small talk as I signed Brynne out at the front counter. Maybe I had just imagined it. I seemed to be the only one who noticed that I’d fallen asleep at the mommy wheel. I heaved a tiny sigh of relief.

That’s when I got it right between the eyes - the answers to two of my most difficult parenting questions.

The first answer came when the school secretary said, “Most of the kids have been out with this for three to five days.”

“Her fever was gone,” I sputtered. “She said she felt fine this morning.” I was vaguely aware of how lame that sounded.

“Well, Brynne will have to stay fever-free for 24 hours before she can return to school,” the school secretary said. I thought I heard a hint of veiled disappointment in her voice. “I’m signing her out for tomorrow. So you don’t need to call in tomorrow morning.”

What, didn’t she think I’d remember to call. Oh, who was I kidding, it was a good thing one of us was on top of things.

Walking out with the feverish little bundle of flu virus disguised as my daughter, I knew the answer to my second question – 24 hours.

That’s how long it took me to go from polishing up my acceptance speech for “Mother of the Year,” to suspecting that my name had been added to a completely different list of nominees.

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