Arabella’s health has taken a turn for the worse. Yesterday she came home from school saying, ‘I feel sick’. But I was busy in the kitchen and as Arabella often says, ‘I feel sick’ when in actual fact there’s nothing wrong with her, I ignored her.
‘Mum, are you listening to me? I said I feel sick’.
‘That’s no good. What’s the problem?’
‘Mum, can I have some sympathy? It’s my glands. They’re so sore. Can you feel them?’
I put down the butter that I was adding to the weighing scales, walked over and put my finger tips very gently on her neck. She reeled back and scowled. ‘Do you have to be so rough? I told you they’re sore.’
‘Oh I hardly touched you.’
‘But did you feel them? They’re really big aren’t they. I’m going to bed. Can you make me a hot lemon drink with honey? And don’t put too much lemon in it, add some lime so it’s not so strong.’
So I stopped making dinner and started making the not-too-strong lemon and lime drink then took it into her where she was all tucked up in bed surrounded by pillows and her doona and was on the skype to someone. When I asked who it was I got the, ‘No one you know’ answer like that’s a reasonable reply.
She took the drink and asked, ‘You don’t think I’ve got glange do you mum? I can’t get glange now because I’ve got my formal in a few days.’ (Not to mention EXAMS) ‘It’s not glange is it? What am I going to do?’ (Glange is what the teenagers call Glandular Fever).
‘Well for starters you’re not going to panic. There’s a hundred other things it could be so just relax, have your drink and let’s see how you feel in the morning.’
She didn’t eat any dinner as said she didn’t feel like it and couldn’t possibly get out of bed for free-range chicken, quinoa and steamed greens. ‘But could you bring me a bowl of ice cream? With hundreds and thousands?’
We survived the night but in the morning I heard Arabella calling out for me. I went into her room and there she was curled up in the foetal position sobbing hysterically. ‘What on earth is wrong?’ I asked.
‘It’s my throat. I can’t swallow.’
‘I’ll make you another lemon and lime drink’.
‘I need painkillers’.
‘Let’s see how you are after the drink’.
So after taking Alfie to school I put her, wearing grunge, (sweatshirt, leggings and ugh boots) into the car and off we went to the doctor. But on the way it was, ‘Could you just pull over to get me an Icy Pole? It would be good for my throat.’
‘We’re running late Arabella.’
‘It will only take you a minute. Just a lemonade one mum.’ I saw a convenience store and so pulled over and bought a lemonade Icy Pole while Arabella phoned Virgin Mobile and asked why her phone had been disconnected. (With a few less medical emergencies I’d be able to remember to pay the bill).
We made it to the doctor 20 minutes late and the gracious doctor didn’t think she has ‘glange’ but he did say her glands are very enlarged and that she has a terrible looking throat. She’s now on anti-biotics for strep-throat. They must be working quickly because she just ate a bag of salt and vinegar chips and a few dreadful doughy thingys from Bakers Delight.
Arabella’s not convinced but I’m sure she’ll be just fine to go back to school tomorrow.
Despite wearing my nurses cap all day I managed to bake some biscuits my mother used to make me when I needed a little TLC. The recipe comes from a cookbook my mother bought while holidaying in the USA, hence these ‘biscuit’s are actually ‘cookies’.
Peanut Butter Cookies
Makes: 4 dozen!
Degree of Difficulty: 2/5
Cost: I only needed to buy a new jar of peanut butter. Everything else was in my pantry.
- 1/2 cup butter
- 1/2 cup peanut butter
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar
- 1/2 cup brown sugar
- 1 egg
- 1/2 tsp vanilla
- 1 1/4 cups plain flour
- 3/4 tsp baking soda
- 1/4 tsp salt
Pre-heat oven to 180C/375F.
Thoroughly cream butter, peanut butter, sugars, egg and vanilla.
Sift together dry ingredients. Blend into mixture.
Shape in 1 inch balls. Roll in granulated sugar.
Place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking trays. Press with fork tines in criss-cross pattern. Bake for 10 – 12 mins. Cool slightly before removing to a wire rack.
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