Not being the parental/maternal/mommy type, when my kid gets sick, it's the end of the world. You might be the parental/maternal/mommy type and when your kid gets sick, it could be the end of your world. You can write about that in your blog. But this is my blog and it's about me and the people I know, and the mothers I do know seem to handle their children getting sick just fine. For me, however, it has ruined my Thanksgiving. My first born is experiencing his first real-hardcore-snot-and-fever-fiesta-type virus.
Thank you, preschool. Or the zoo. Or the playground.
He even looks weird - like he's been mainlining Benadryl nonstop for 72 hours. His eyes are all droopy and he's just been in the craziest mood - erratically mellow, but then erratically cuckoo. The worst part of it is that although normally, his screams are incredibly piercing and awful, his screams now are muted and bizarre. It has come to this - I miss his shrieking. If he could scream like he did last week, at least I would know that he was normal again. He also looks thinner, which is bad since he's already a scrawny dude.
There is no middle ground when I worry about something. I've managed to convince myself he has the plague and if he overcomes this, it will be with less brain cells, or impaired vision, or a complete defiance towards afternoon naps. There will be a scar and it will be permanent.
Let's discuss Thanksgiving. No one died. We still have a roof over our head. There was no great tragedy other than the fact that I only ate half a plate of food and no dessert (not by choice, although I'm sure it didn't hurt me).
The first part of Thanksgiving was at my in-laws. That sucked because that's when I first noticed he looked high! He was in a crappy mood and didn't want to eat. He wanted to go play in the next room and I had to be the bouncer that made sure he and his cousins didn't terrorize each other. (Is it possible for three-year-olds to coexist harmoniously???)
Ate about a quarter of a plate at that dinner.
We left before dessert to squeeze in a nap before having to go to my mom's. I hoped he would just sleep it off and be fine when he woke up. He slept for a little while, or I did while I laid next to him. I'm not exactly sure if he got any sleep, but I got in about 45 minutes. That's the only good thing about the kid getting sick. It sort of justifies falling asleep in his bed with him ("I'm monitoring the fever"). Then at my mom's house, just as we were sitting down to eat, the housekeeper said, "He's got a fever."
Ugh.
We bust out the thermometer and it's 102. Ugh ugh ugh. Off to Wal-mart to buy drugs and Gatorade. I'm shoveling food in my mouth as we're packing the dudes up.
Ate about a quarter of a plate at that dinner as well.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It is the day when, as far as I'm concerned, the best food is cooked and the best company is kept at my mother's house. However, I realized at 10PM last night as John and I were peacefully eating leftovers that my mom sent us, we are about five years away from being able to enjoy a peaceful and fun Thanksgiving. If it's not a sickness that throws a monkey wrench into the festivities, it'll be a bedtime, or boredom, or some other crazy thing that infects those little maniacs we call toddlers.
The doorbell rang this afternoon. There were flowers at my door. Made my Thanksgiving and my year. The note said, "This too shall pass." Thank you, Amy.
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