the working mother's nightmare

So, I have a kid, a job, a dog, and a husband.

And at 2am on wednesday morning, I have a sick kid (feverish and hacking up a lung), an important meeting at 10am that I am meant to run (and no-one else can), a dog (asleep and so far no problem), a husband who has to be at the airport at 9:30am to usher the Prime Minister and his contingent (huge contingent) smoothly out of the country, and mostly no sleep.

Crap.

This isn't quite what I signed up for.

Oh well. So, at 5am I cancel the meeting via email (because our new computer is lacking the handy dandy phone list of everyone I know - it dissapeared into some computer-esque nether world), and hope that everyone gets the email (all but two do). I drug up the kid (which doesn't really help all that much), and manage to get an hour's sleep (wahoo!). Get up at 8 (Steve is already on his way to the airport), call the neighbor's nanny to walk the dog, and spend a day with my sick kid.

Which is actually kind of nice, in a way. He's 8, and I figure I only have a few more years of cuddles, and nothing is cuddlier than a sick kid. We read together, snooze, watch a bad movie, eat soup.

Maybe it is what I signed up for, after all.