James has been a real trooper the last day or two. Wednesday night he was sideswiped by a nasty mysterious illness that I will term here as “The Blight of Fountains of Snot and Sleeping . . Not a Lot.”
He went to bed Wednesday at 8:30 p.m. and awoke at 11:00 p.m. I went in to get him and dutifully nursed the hot little furnace in the dark room, wondering offhandedly why his hands were so warm. I put him back in his crib, rolled the thermometer over his forehead, and noted a 100 degree temp. He seemed not too much worse for the wear, and was sleeping soundly, so I logged that bit of info away in the “Things to be aware of but not too alarmed by” section of my sleepy brain and tiptoed back to my room.
Not 15 minutes later I was summoned again by his fervent call.
I entered the room, smelled his little toosh, and was lambasted with an odor more offensive to my smeller than words can describe. After a hasty change of both diaper and attire, I gingerly put him back in his crib to settle in for a goodnight snooze.
As you may have guessed, the snooze did not last for long. I wore out the carpet from our bedroom to his every fifteen minutes for about two hours before I surrendered and took him down to the kitchen. Dizzy with fatigue and eyes bleary with the eye-jell I had dropped in my eyes before bedtime (by order of my eye doctor – which is story enough for another entry) I fumbled through the cupboard sheepishly looking for the baby Tylenol I had been given for his shower. Even in the house of a future chiropractor, desperate times call for desperate measures. I needed my sleep! And plus, Mr. D.C. was snoring soundly upstairs and would never be the wiser ;-)
With a twinge of trepidation, I injected the grape flavored goo into his unsuspecting throat, and James spent the remainder of the next hour sitting on the floor, awake as could be, transfixed with the medicine dropper. He was even cooing. Not having quite the effect I had planned, I cut my losses, pulled up a carpet, and figured a sugar-high was better than a fussy baby with a temperature.
At 3:00 a.m. I decided to try my hand at putting James to sleep again. I managed to coax him to sleep successfully and once the deed had been done, I gave a sigh of relief and burrowed my way back into the empty spot on my side of our king-sized bed.
After forty-five minutes of glorious beauty rest, low and behold I awoke, yet again, to the sounds of a crying baby. “How could this be?” I asked myself. I was just sure I had done my duty. Finished my course. Looking after his every need until 3 a.m. was surely sacrifice enough. He was human, wasn’t he? Didn’t he need sleep just as desperately as I did?
Apparently not.
I nursed him at 3:45 a.m. and put him back to bed thinking – now. Now we will finally both get some rest. At 4:00 a.m. the ritual was repeated. At 4:15 the chief was all tuckered out. I surrendered and plopped him down in our bed, in between Chad and I. He continued to wake every 15 minutes for the next two hours – whining, crying, kicking us both in the back. But at least Chad was feeling the pain as well! Somehow we managed to survive till morning, and at 6:30 a.m. Chad got up and watched the little culprit while getting ready for school. This meant I got another glorious 45-minute stretch of sleep!
James was pretty much a sad, sick, sorry-lookin little turkey that whole day. His nose was running like a leaky faucet, and the nose-wiping battles were plentiful and fierce. When James finally zonked out for a nap, I forgot to turn on the baby monitor. I quickly made myself busy, hoarding this precious time to myself as I would a piece of Rocky Mountain fudge. About thirty minutes later I thought I heard a muffled cry. I figured it must be the neighbor kids, James couldn’t possibly be awake so soon, but I decided to go upstairs anyway - just to make sure the monitor was on. Low and behold it was in fact my baby screaming. When I opened his door the poor little guy had tear-stained splotchy red cheeks and was laying helplessly in his own throw-up. I quickly scooped him up and gave him a big love. Swaying back and forth, both of us now smeared in throw up, I listened to that heart-rending gasp breathing thing that kids do to get the air back after a hard cry. Then I took a picture. The journalist in me just can’t stand to let a good photo op pass me by! I spent the rest of the day mostly just holding him and serving as his own personal nose-wiping machine. He didn’t particularly appreciate that.
After a full night of not sleeping, and a day of record-breaking amounts of snot, fevers, and short-lived naps, it warmed my heart as I walked past his room just now (two days later) and the sounds of a full-blown baby snore wafted into my grateful ears. Sleep. Glorious sleep. One of these days I’ve gotta get me some of that.
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| Any chance I could get some more of that grape flavored goo? |
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| Miserable doesn't even begin to explain how I am feeling just now. |
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| Mom, when I need a tissue, I will let you know. |
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| Can I be done now? Being sick is the pits! |
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| Would you like a little oatmeal with that James? |
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| No really, I'm good :-) No need for a wipe yet. |
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Awe, mom. Not the tissue behind the back trick again.
Alright. Just get it over with. |
