Pneumonia...

Well, apparently all my hovering could not protect my daughter from either strep throat or pneumonia...  although the hovering did get her in to the doctor before either one of them was very bad.  And I frankly feel I dodged the bullet by not getting sick too - clearly an "occupational" hazard for the Helicopter Mom.  Not so much of an issue for the Free Floating Dad...  The good news is she's coughing less.  The bad news is right after we went to the doctor and were sitting in the car waiting for our turn at the drive through pharmacy (sometimes I just love So Cal), Free Floating Dad calls on the cell to tell me about the obituary he read in the paper that very morning where some poor guy, not even 55 years old, died of pneumonia!  Of course, since the laws have changed in LA, he's on speaker phone and my 8 year old daughter is now cowering in the backseat planning her own funeral.  "Why didn't you tell me I was on speaker?!" he growls later after feverish pneumonia girl is in bed.  "I told you I was in the car." I insist as if I haven't made the same mistake a dozen times.  But I don't generally read the obituaries so I'm usually safe on that count.  More likely I inadvertently swear and don't realize it until I hear the giggle from the backseat over my cellphone.  So, sorry to the other helicopter moms I've done that to.  You know who you are.  Anyway, we're handling the obituary mishap by acting like she's hardly sick at all, so we'll definitely be paying for that in a day or two.

I have to say though, I was relieved at "Girls Night Out" when another of the moms told me her kids have had pneumonia three times because, because aside from the fact that I'm obviously a bad mother because I was at "Girls Night Out" when my daughter had just be diagnosed with pneumonia, I've never had pneumonia, Free Floating Dad has never had pneumonia and both of us keep worrying that she is literally going to die.  That one of the many times we tiptoe into her bedroom to check her breathing, we might be too late.  Which is probably overreacting.  But that's what I do.  Hover and overreact.  And eat too many chocolate wafer cookies.  So when I'm not fighting back the tears and morbidly trying to memorize her face, I'm yelling at her for watching 8 Hannah Montana episodes in a row and not practicing her piano.  Perhaps this blog should be titled "Crazy Helicopter Mom".  Well, I've got to wrap this up - it's been 20 minutes since I've held a mirror up to her nose.