Soldier On

In combat situations, good soldiers emerge as heroes when they withstand extraordinary duress with clear thinking and utmost regard for their comrades.

Would that divorce made good soldiers of us all.

My two younger kids are sick again, having missed most of this week at school due to fevers and the croup. They are with me today, as I work feverishly on deadline.

Yesterday, their mother took on the task of calling their doctor about a prescription. Around noon, she called to say it would be phoned to a pharmacy in my neighborhood at noon. Would I please, please call them in a half hour to be sure it was ready?

Yes, I can handle that.

I called and it was not ready. It would be ready in late afternoon. And by the way, it could not be delivered. I needed to pick it up with the insurance card in hand.

Going to the druggist would mean bundling up two sick kids and dragging them along as—remember—I am a single parent with no one to watch them at home. But if that is the way it is, that is the way it is.

If it were ready for pick up in the late afternoon, at least Jason would be home from school to stay with the younger kids, so I could race off for a few minutes.

Jason is eleven, and I have begun to rely on him as a babysitter when I make short outings in the neighborhood. It is so much easier and efficient than dressing his younger siblings and dragging their complaints into the winter every time I need eggs or milk.

It was about three when the medicine was ready. Lillie was conked out, and I was not going to wake her for a bracing walk in freezing weather. Jason was due home at four thirty. I would just wait it out.

Now, all you armchair generals take note: this was a pivotal decision! Had I rallied the troops and marched forward, that medicine might have been working its magic by three thirty.

But I drew up a divergent tact of engagement.

Jason came home and I dashed off to pick up the medicine. It was to be administered twice daily. It tastes chalky, so the doctor recommended mixing it with ice cream.

Twice a day . . . ice cream . . . it was already approaching the supper hour. I opted to reserve the medicine until after dinner.

Another crucial decision made. Perhaps it was the right one, perhaps not. All I know is: I will live with it for the rest of my life.

My ex Lucy called as I made dinner and asked to speak with Lillie and Collie. I handed the phone to Lillie and went back to frying chicken.

In a few moments, Lillie brought the phone to me. “Mommy wants to talk to you.”

I took the phone. I held it away from my ear as she ranted.

“Why haven’t you given the children their medicine?! Jefferson, the children are sick. The medicine will make them better. The prescription was phoned in at noon, and it is now nearly six o’clock! You have to give them the medicine! Why don’t you understand that? Please, please give them the medicine!”

“Well, the doctor said . . . hello?”

She hung up on me. Pretty common practice, actually. You get used to it, though I don’t have to tolerate it.

I did as I often do. Adopt a very soothing tone and call back.

I got the machine.

“It is very rude to hang up on someone, particularly family. But you know that, and you do it anyway. At any rate, the medicine was only ready late this afternoon. The doctor suggested giving it with ice cream, so I am giving it to them after dinner. I guess that’s all. Bye.”

I got a snippy email about how a mother worries and I wouldn’t understand that.

Yes, it’s true. I will never know what it is like to be a mother.

I replied that the kids have had their medicine, and I would see her in the morning when she picked up Jason for school at six thirty.

My cell rang a little after six. I was in the bathroom and missed it. I woke Jason and made his lunch. Collie woke up too, so I gave him his medicine.

Six thirty came and went. No sign of Lucy. I called.

“Good morning. Are you picking up Jason?”

“No I am not. I called to say I was on my way, and there was no answer. So I am at work.”

“I’m sorry we missed your call. But the plan was . . .”

“I can’t trust plans with you! That’s why I had to call!”

“But if you had done as planned, we would have heard you at the door. Did you drive to the apartment?”

“No I called because I knew you would oversleep!”

“Well, we didn’t oversleep. We are up.”

“I can’t do anything about that.”

“Okay, I’ll get Jason to school. Bye.”

She had already hung up.

We killed a little time. I left the younger kids alone and took Jason to the corner. It was snowing. I put him in a cab.

He is growing up fast thanks to this divorce.

He’s a good soldier.