The Boy got sent home from school yesterday. Well, he would have been sent home, except that I accidentally left my phone off, and, for some odd reason, they didn't call my husband at work.
Anyway, he's at home today with his daddy, and he has a doctor's appointment at 2:45. After all, Dr W told me to call and/or bring him in if he still had a fever on Thursday, and, well, it's Thursday and he still has a fever. And a bad cough. And if he has the same cold I have, a sore throat, too. But I think my sore throat partially came from the constant vomiting, so there's really no telling. His appetite has also decreased considerably (he didn't even finish his banana this morning for breakfast, and he only had a little more than half a cup of his favorite macaroni and cheese for dinner last night), he has a bad cough, and he's not sleeping well. Oh, but his breathing isn't labored and he's still in (mostly) good spirits, so that's the bright side of things.
My poor little baby.
He woke up around 3AM and didn't want to go back to bed right away. I nursed him, let him drink some milk from his sippy cup (because, sadly, I'm only making so much milk now - but with both of us fighting the same cold, a little bit is better than nothing), gave him some Tylenol, nursed him some more, changed his diaper, and held him as I tried to coax him back to sleep. I thought I had him, but as soon as I crawled back into my own bed, he announced he wasn't ready for bed. So I brought him into the family room, reclined onto the couch, and tried to get him to sleep again. He was restless, so I let him walk around a bit before bringing him back into his room to go to sleep. It's impossible to be upset with a little boy who is just so excited to be alive, even at 4 in the morning. Finally, around 4:30, he fell asleep and (mostly) stayed asleep. He was still out when I left just after 7 this morning.
Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit tired.
I've taken myself off of Weight Watchers this week. After all, how do you count points when you aren't keeping most of what you've eaten in your stomach? When I'm better, I'll go back on it. It's not terrible, after all; it just requires keeping a list. And I love to keep lists.
There's a brushfire somewhere near my house (though not close enough for any danger), and probably a few more on the way to work. The air quality outside is terrible. As soon as I reached the Disney area on the freeway, the smoke was unbearable. And now all I can smell is smoke. It's awful. For this reason, I'm so thankful The Boy is staying home today. I really don't want him outside exposed to this if it can be helped at all.
The Boy enjoys watching Chris play Mario Kart on the Wii. I think he likes the pretty colors and the graphics. It works well, I think; Chris can play and The Boy will (mostly) watch. Last night they were watching something on G4 together, which was pretty cute. Chris was sitting on the floor, and The Boy was in front of him, drinking from his sippy cup, both of them engrossed in whatever was on the screen. If I thought I had time to take a picture of them together, I would have. It was completely priceless.
I'm a little annoyed today at work. See, a big part of what I do is provide reporting on a weekly basis on product performance. Twice a year, there's a group in my department that asks for information on specific items, which normally isn't a big deal - except that (1) they wait until the very last moment to ask for the information with every expectation of having it immediately, (2) they're asking for a lot of information that's already in the reports (with commentary) that I send out each week, and (3) 30% of the items on which they want information either don't exist, have not been delivered, or have less than a month's sales data. And, sadly, my crystal ball isn't working right now, so I can't tell you how these items will perform this year. If I could do that, I'd let my friends know the winning lottery numbers, too, and, well, as none of my friends have won the lottery, clearly I can't do it.
[sigh]
I've been meaning to share a funny (to me) from our last visit to Dr W.
The Boy and I waited for a while in the examination room (long enough for me to vomit into the sink and clean it up), and when Dr W came in and sat facing us, The Boy reached out for the good doctor to pick him up and hold him.
Dr W was impressed. "Most kids this age scream in fear when they see me coming."
I wondered why, since he's a very nice man with a gentle smile and good demeanor. He told me that a lot of parents tell their kids to be good or they'll get a shot. Oftentimes, they'll do it right in front of the doctor. No wonder they're afraid of him! I'd be scared, too.
But not The Boy. "Oh, no, " I told Dr W. "When we're going to the doctor, I tell him we get to see Dr W and Nurse A, like it's a treat. After all, we don't see you every day!" Besides, the staff is awesome and still coo over The Boy. It's wonderful.
Dr W smiled and told me how much he appreciates that - it certainly makes his life a little easier. But it also begs the question: How long will I be able to pull this off before The Boy realizes that a trip to the doctor really isn't that much fun?
Has anyone ever done something so horrible to you that "I'm sorry" couldn't fix it?
Yes. Many times.
I will often let it go with "I'm sorry" - but I won't ever forget it, and God help you if/when you do it again. And yeah, I'm one to hold onto things.
It's a big part of the reason I'll probably die young.
As I type, I'm running the first of many month-end reports. I was sent home yesterday because my boss thought I looked too sick to be at work, so I (obviously) didn't get a chance to do any of my work. Blech. The plus side is that I got a good nap in yesterday, which I definitely needed given that somebody (who will go unnamed) decided he didn't want to go to sleep last night. I'm not sure when he woke up, but after a little bit of nursing, four ounces of corn, a few sips of milk, and a few hours, I finally got him asleep in his own bed (with my sweatshirt) around 1AM.
And then he woke up at 4:30. That was just as well, to be honest, because I needed to get to work early and push out all the things I needed to have done last night. But I really would have liked another hour or two of sleep.
So, we'll give it another go today.
I asked Chris to bring The Boy to school today so that I could get to work extra early. I left the house just as The Boy was finishing breakfast and about to be changed out of his pajamas.
The worst thing, though, is that I'm still not feeling right. As I type, I can hear my stomach turning, and it's not a great sound (or feeling). The vomiting has stopped (thank GAWD), but then there's the nasty business of that other part which, though much preferable to vomiting, is just plain awful.
I dropped off a very unhappy little boy this morning. In fact, as soon as we got into the classroom, he started to scream in terror and cling to me for dear life. He settled down a bit while I was signing the roster sheet (still holding him, mind you), only to freak out again when one of the teachers reached out to take him from me.
I have my suspicions of the cause of this, aside from the common separation anxiety. Lack of Mommy-time combined with a little cold and generally not feeling too great equals an unhappy baby.
Yesterday, I left work early after vomiting in the bathroom. Thankfully, I made it to the bathroom in order to do it. I cleared off my desk, told my boss I just threw up and needed to go home, and rushed home to my bed (which is not too far from the bathroom, thankfully). I don't know how many times I puked; I just know it wasn't a good scene.
I took The Boy to the doctor yesterday afternoon, and Dr W took a look at me, too. The Boy and I both have colds, and he's getting over the stomach bug that he just gave me. Oh joy, joy, joy. After the appointment, I drove home, called my husband to come out of the house and collect The Boy from my car, and rushed to the bathroom before going to bed. So The Boy did not have any Mommy-time last night (and the fact that I heard my husband tell him "Mommy doesn't want you in there" probably didn't help matters much).
We were fine this morning at the house. He woke up (on his own - I was in no rush to get out of bed this morning), and we cuddled and chatted for a little while before I changed his diaper (poopy - no diarrhea - but still a bad diaper rash) and dressed him in his clothes for school. Before breakfast, we played for a bit (his new favorite toy is an empty paper towel tube), I tried to teach him the word "egg", and he took out all his books from his bookcase. (I was in no shape to try and stop him.) Then, after a hearty breakfast of yogurt, Pirate Booty (because he has suddenly decided not to eat bananas), and a few sips of milk, we piled into the car and were on our way.
He was in such good spirits during the ride over. He pointed out the window and chatted about the things he saw (none of which I, of course, understood), and was otherwise in a great mood. He protested when I tried to clean his face before taking him out of the car, but even when we were on our way to the classroom, he seemed perfectly content.
But the moment we set foot into the room, he burst into tears. I felt so bad.
Even worse is that I'll need to stay late tonight to finish up month-end reporting. I only hope he'll forgive me in the morning!
I'm not eating the Mexican food, mind you. I'm just smelling it, and it's not really working for me.
Today, in honor of Cino de Mayo, my office threw a Cinco de Mayo potluck. I didn't bring anything (are you kidding me? The Boy didn't fall asleep last night until almost 10!), so I'm not eating any of it, but as my desk is right next to the breakroom, I'm privvy to all the smells wafting from that room. Normally, I'd be all excited about it, but right now...
The Boy has a 4:30 appointment to see Dr. W today (I think my little one has a sinus infection on top of the stomach bug he had this weekend), and I'm going to see if he can see me simultaneously. I'm feeling really nauseous and I have absolutely no appetite - and for those who know me, that alone is a really bad sign.
(For those who recognize the source of this entry's title, yes, The Boy listened to it quite a bit while in the womb... and a little bit outside the womb, too.)
We hit a major milestone this weekend.
Yesterday, Bekki was kind enough to accompany me out of the house with The Boy to visit the Red Dot Boutique. With Saturday being the awful, awful day that it was, I sorely needed to get out of the house before I went crazy. (And after listening to my toddler screaming like bloody hell every time I brought a wipe anywhere near his bum, I wanted nothing more than to get out of the house and look at something different, something not in or anywhere near my hosue.) Chris had some pre-existing plans with his old roommates and The Boy's tummy seemed better (he was passing gas again, always a good sign), so I braved an excursion with The Boy in tow.
Bekki and I circled the store several times, and The Boy was most intrigued with the giant Converse star hanging from the ceiling in one section. Each time we passed it, he would point up at it, and I would say, "That's a star." Then he would kind of grunt and we'd go on our merry way.
The third time we passed under the star, he pointed up and said, very clearly, "Stah." I was so impressed and so excited, I gave him a big hug and praised him for being so clever and so smart. "Yes, C, that is a star! Very good!"
But it doesn't stop there.
This morning, after I changed his diaper (more screaming) and dressed him, he crawled to his shoes and held them up to me. "Soos!" he said. Again, I was elated. "Yes, C, those are your shoes! Will you bring them to me?" He looked at the shoes, handed me one, and said, "Soo." I was so proud.
I know it's not the soliloquy from Hamlet, but it's a start!
The Boy is finally down for a nap, though at this late hour, he might be out for longer than just a nap. The poor thing was up late last night vomiting, and when he woke up this morning, it was because of diarrhea. Amazingly enough, he's been in good spirits and playful all day, pausing just long enough to vacate his bowels before launching full-force into play.
So, remember how I was all excited yesterday because I was caught up on laundry and was able to skip a day? Yeah... I'm never making a statement like that again. I'm now running my fourth load of laundry with #5 in the queue. On the plus side, included in the laundry are bed sheets (yes, I changed my bed sheets this week, per my Month of Good), so it's not a total loss.
Yesterday, I did not do laundry, nor did I get a chance to floss (let alone brush my teeth last night). I didn't Swiffer the kitchen floor, either, or clear off countertops. In fact, I didn't do anything I was "supposed to do" last night, and I'm more than okay with that. My little boy was sick and needed me, and at the end of the day, I still know where my priorities lie.
So, I wasn't "good" yesterday by the standards set forth in My List. But I was good where it counts, and I feel really good about that!
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