In case there was any question about it–and perhaps two weekends ago when we were lounging around outdoors in short sleeves at our neighbors’ grill-out soaking up the 70’s there was–it’s winter. Indeed every January brings us at least one wacky weekend during which the temps are remarkably above average and we central North Carolinians goo and gaaa over how beautiful and bizarre it is as if it has never happened before, but be assured that come next January for a wee bit of winter the winds will change and the freakishly warms days will once again awe us. Last Thursday, not a full week after our Sunday sun day, we got our first winter snow and it has been burrrshit cold almost every day since. Today we endured a disgusting wintry mix and at four in the afternoon I spent 15 or so minutes thawing and scraping my car at work so I could creep along the highway home doing my best to avoid any moronic moves by other motorists in various states of panic. So yeah, it’s winter.
Another sure sign of my least favorite season being fully upon us is the fact that Pete and the kiddos have all been some stage of sick for what seems like an eternity. I don’t remember when it first started, but I do believe there was some sort of break before this recent bout which kicked off sometime around the 15th or 16th, for Pete at least. A little look back at the ‘ol Twitter log shows that I remarked on Crosby’s eighty year old hacking death cough on Jan 8 so he clearly hasn’t been 100% in forever. See? Tweeting is useful! Anyhoo, Pete’s crud came back a little more than a week ago, and right about that same time Norah started oozing snot like a leaky faucet and Crosby’s cough turned into a full on dose of gross complete with ear infection (that last part we just found out yesterday). The December version of this story included some scary high fevers, but to date (knock on wood, bite my tongue and whatever other anti-jinx magic I can work) we’ve avoided any vomiting.
Today, Friday, the nastiest winter weather day this season so far, it seems like everyone might finally be on the mend. It’s quite possible we could have expedited this recovery had at least one member of sicky-party-of-three made a trip to the doctor earlier on in the funkfest. But we Elders are nothing if not stubborn and cheap, and so in the hopes of avoiding a parting of ways with some hard earned benjamins, we convinced ourselves that it would pass on its own. Boy did we hold on through some hell. Our long MLK weekend was an exercise in patient parenting that more than a few times looked like someone might get punted. Norah spent the bulk of the weekend whining and crying “get my boogies” out every five minutes and entering near nervous breakdown if I wasn’t able to attend to her slowly descending snot stream quite immediately. Yes that’s right “I” not we, because for some reason or another if I’m here Pete is not allowed to get near her nose or do various other things to help her out, but that’s a whole other post waiting to be written. Crosby was in fairly decent spirits during the day in spite of his terrible congestion, but come night time it was on. The poor kid wouldn’t and couldn’t sleep for shit. Which means, ding ding ding, neither would or could we. And since getting plenty of rest and fluids are the top two things you’re told to help get rid of the sickies, clearly only having half of that dynamic duo would hinder healing. Between the incessant coughing and clogged nostrils, baby boy just wasn’t comfortable lying down and even propping the crib up with a pillow to have him sleeping on an incline didn’t help. For the better part of those three days we were all plum exhausted and miserable, and needless to say Pete and I were not each other’s biggest fans. Nothing brings out love and marital bliss quite like sleep deprivation.
Monday night at the grocery store we finally reached the point of parenting fatigue where you just have to laugh and that night we hugged and half jokingly thanked each other for not running away. For that night and the next we powered through and things looked like they might be headed in the right direction, but then Wednesday night came and Crosby decided to once again test every ounce of patience in our beings and, well, I failed. I’ll spare you the details and sum it up with I was a raging bitch. Poor Pete. Thursday morning, feeling terribly guilty for my absurd antics in the middle of the night, I reconsidered the very valid point that was made in our group text with the Florida Elders about when to take the kiddos to the doctor: sleep is precious. It was time to stop hemming and hawing over spending a little money and get that kid some relief, so Pete made an appointment and to the ped they went. There wasn’t much said about his cough and cold other than yep, he has a cough and cold, but we did find out that he has an ear infection which was causing him discomfort when drinking from a bottle which was causing him to not eat a lot which was contributing to him not sleeping a lot. We got amoxicillin for that and permission to drug him up with some baby benadryl to relieve some of the congestion, and last night we were finally able to get a little sleep. Hallelujah.
Even though Crosby is kid two, this whole nonstop sicky thing is a whole new experience for us. Norah was nearly never sick, maybe had one cold, and no ear infections that we were aware of. It seems the timeless tale of preschool germ passing has woven its way into our lives and we’re just experiencing the joys of having a little one regularly exposed to the cooties of other children. I’ve got high hopes that having Crosby go through a lot of this now will do wonders for his immune system for when he’s ready to enter the germ factory. Until then we maybe just a little learned our lesson that we probably shouldn’t wait weeks to get him in for some proper professional evaluating. And on the bright side (once again, gimme all your anti-jinx juju!) I’ve managed to stay well throughout this whole mess.
Here’s to having a wholly healthy family very soon!!
Elderland out. XO.