Oy, my friends. No matter how bad your life may seem, take heart that at least you weren’t me over the weekend.
Here’s how things went down:
Tim was feeling better on Friday, but soon got all head-coldy again.
I have just felt generally poorly, with intermittent bouts of hacking coughs. My voice went from sexy-gravelly to cracking and raspy. It is only now getting back to some semblance of reliability for communication.
Auggie has been to toddler hell and back. The molar is finally through, but his head cold persisted. But strangely enough, his appetite actually got worse once his tooth had broken through. Friday, he hardly ate a thing.
After finally sleeping through the night on Friday, he promptly threw up his breakfast Saturday morning after a coughing fit. Tim brought him back to bed with me to nurse and he lost that too after getting back up again.
Now, Auggie spit up quite a bit when he was a baby, but we have heretofore not had him actually vomit in our vicinity. This was a new one, and I’m not proud to say that I did not handle it well. Luckily, each time he was sick on Saturday, we were in the kitchen, so things were easily cleaned up. But while he was actually in the act of throwing up, I could only stand by and keen. Poor baby. I felt so powerless to help him.
But once he was finished, he seemed like he felt better. I, however, felt much worse and promptly called the pediatrician to set up an appointment. She took a look in his ears and declared him infected in both. Both, my friends. That sucks. She also told us that the mucous was probably running down the back of his throat and making him nauseous, so that was probably causing the vomiting.
Well, at least we’re not contending with some virulent stomach flu that is going to rip through all three of us, right? There’s a silver lining, right? Yeah, right.
Anyway, Auggie finally keeps down some bread Saturday evening, then goes to bed for the night. Tim and I stay up too late getting things accomplished. Suddenly, we bolt upright in bed at 3 a.m., because Auggie’s screaming in his crib. The poor little guy had thrown up his bread.
So into the bathtub he went, and while Tim changed his PJs, I took his sheets and blankets and clothes to the washing machine. All told, we were back in bed by 4. Not fun.
Today was a little better. Auggie was sick only once, but still he refuses to eat solid food. He’s drinking plenty of water and nursing up a storm, so we’re trying to keep our cool. Surely, he will eat again, right? It’s not like he’s going to subsist on a liquid diet for the rest of his life.
I’m finally feeling better, although this cough refuses to let go of my throat. I’m trying not to feel bad about deviating from the lifestyle program several days this week, but I’m always a little disappointed that I never lose weight while I’m sick. (That, in itself, is a little sick, no?) It seems like whenever I’m not feeling well, I need comfort food to make me feel better.
Anyway, what’s done is done and all I can do is jump right back in. Actually, I did pretty well today and even made this great roasted chicken tonight. Yummy!
On a lighter note: I’ve decided that I love leaving cryptic Post-It note reminders for myself on my bathroom mirror, if only because it confuses Tim to no end. For example, my note this weekend read, ‘Facemask. Antibiotic. Letter. Christmas cards.’
Tim was like, “Facemask? What’s up with that?”Â
I just told him that I was studying up on the finer points of football penalties.