Not Suitable For Moms

Nyquil how I love thee. Let me count the ways. Thou takest away my snot, if only temporarily. Thou maketh me to, if not stop coughing, at least sleep through it. (This annoyeth the spouse, but he'll get over it - we'll calleth it "P-A-Y-B-A-C-K" for all the snoring) Thou art a magical elixir that can guarantee my sleep even on the worst nights of cold and flu season.

But underneath those warnings about high blood pressure and MAOI's and prostates of the large variety, they really need to offer a warning that you will become completely incapable of giving a shit about your sick children as well.

I was woken by Meredith at 12:00 a.m. when she threw up a little in her crib. But instead of my usual routine of changing her, stripping her bed and putting clean sheets on - I found it completely acceptable to wipe off her hands and face, strip the pillowcase that was the repository of the offending vomit, and turn the pillow over so the dry side faced up, and tell her to go back to sleep.

Oh yes I did.

And somewhere in my Nyquil induced fog, I recall my other daughter visiting in the wee hours to tell me her brand of stomach flu was producing rear emissions and she hadn't quite made it to the toilet. I told her to change her pants and go back to bed.

I'm telling you, I was aware these things were happening, I just couldn't be bothered to actually get up and do anything about it.

In other words, the label should read, "Warning, the consumption of this medication may temporarily turn you into a DAD."

Skeletons Out Of The Closet

Sabrina had a terrible earache yesterday that caused her at least some discomfort, but she pulled out her best drama queen skills anyway to be sure I knew it hurt. Once I told her she was in the clear, I was letting her stay home from school, she resumed her normal programming.

But this required a trip to the pediatrician, which meant I had to drag the entire troop with me since CYS frowns on the crate training method for children.

When we arrived and the doctor came in, he made small talk with all the children. Jamie, being the boy that begins talking in the morning even before his eyes open, was sure to inform the good Doctor of all Sabrina's complaints relating to her ear and even some that weren't.

And then he suddenly, inexplicably adopted a tone of voice usually reserved for sad orphans, or boys who have just lost their puppy, and said, "We ALL had to come with Mama because Daddy isn't at home."

The Doctor, hearing this tone of voice, turned toward me with a concerned look in his eyes and asked, "Is everything okay at home?"

When I informed him that, yes, Daddy was just at work today like he is every day, he chuckled and said, "No secrets in your house with that one around eh?"

I have no idea where the boy gets it. Nobody else in our family puts all our secrets out there for the whole world to hear.

Or read.

Ass, Bitten

So there I was all bragging about my wonderful, compliant, EASY kid.

Oh yes, she actually loves the breathing treatments. That dinosaur mask is toddler gold! She won't take it off! What? You mean your kid won't sit still for those treatments? You poor dear soul. Excuse me while I polish my superiority complex.

My initial instincts were correct. The kid doesn't think the breathing treatments are so cool. We're down to sitting on the toddler pinning her arms together for eight minutes.

Eight...........loooooooooong....................minutes.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. You go ahead and enjoy your turkey and stuffing.

I'll be over here eating Humble Pie.

Good Call

Despite the continued busy signal at the pediatrician's office, I decided it would be best to forge ahead and brave the pediatrician's office. Something in Meredith's cough was setting off my maternal antennae.

Turns out she has a double ear infection, but more importantly, she was wheezing a fair amount and will require breathing treatments. This involves a medication called Albuterol (normally used for asthma) blown into her face.

The last time she had these breathing treatments it didn't go so well, as chronicled by clicking here.

I realize she was only 6 months old at the time, but I figured if it was that difficult to pin her down and keep her still while she was basically a very cute pillow that had just learned to sit up, it would be next to impossible to convince her to do it now that she's a fully functional, walking, running and (back) talking small human with very defined opinions of what she will and will not (no how no way) do.

Those Irish eyes are smiling over the much coveted dinosaur mask. In fact, the only tantrums that have occurred came when I attempted to take the mask off.

All I can say is my kid is weird. Wonderful and delightful, but weird.

It Must Be A Day Ending In "Y"

You know it's bad when Meredith's newest phrase is "runny nose".

Meredith is sick. It's one of those low grade sick things that you sort of forget when it started, but you wake up one day and think, "Hmmmmm, that has been going on for awhile, now did that start this month or last month?"

Such is life with three small petri dishes.

I debated taking her to see the doctor this morning, but when I called the line was busy. As in busy signal, not put on hold to listen to a minimum of 20 minutes of admonitions to make an appointment for a flu shot, accompanied by the warning that my insurance may not cover all of my child's well-visits. No, that kind of busy I'm used to.

But a busy signal on a Monday morning at the pediatrician's office when they have several incoming phone lines is a Very Bad Sign.

Since we don't need to catch any new and interesting exotic viruses right now - we're doing just fine finding them on our own thank you very much - I made the decision to let it lie.

But my children have a habit of getting really sick on Sundays and holidays, therefore I'm guessing it would be prudent to take her before Thursday (Thanksgiving Holiday for my international readers). Otherwise I'll be stuck talking to the lady at the answering service who is really pissed off that she had to work today, and will flip a coin to decide if she will actually tell the on-call doctor that I called.

Screaming Earache Child + All Day Family Togetherness = Mom calling HER doctor to beg for tranquilizers.

Speaking Of Genetics

Have you ever had a sinus headache where you seriously consider taking one of those melon baller thingies and shoving it up your nose so you could scrape out some of your brains?

Yeah it's like that.

For two weeks.

I couldn't possibly inherit the fast-metabolism-eat-anything-you-want-pretty-much-until-you're-40 gene from my Dad. Instead I was blessed with his sinuses.

I'll be back when my brains shrink back to their normal size.

Things I've Learned This Past Week (And Didn't Necessarily Want To Know)

• Children can throw up faster than a speeding barf bucket.
• Strawberry Jell-O is SHOCKINGLY pink the second time around.
• Sick poops smell like Asiago cheese.
• I will never eat Asiago cheese again.
• The baby finds her big brother's sippy of water exceptionally appealing when he is sick.
• Eventually the baby will catch the stomach virus despite frequent hand washing and eternal optimism.
• I may never catch up on laundry.
• The amount of vomit and poop deposited on the couch is directly proportional to how new it is (Thank goodness it was cheap).
• My couch cushions are capable of being hosed down (Thank goodness it was cheap).
• I need to become more in touch with my inner Earth Mother who is infinitely more patient than my outer grouchy one.
• Sometimes it's nice to have a sick kid cuddle up on your lap and spend all day there.
• Snuggling with your sick kid(s) is more important than the dirty laundry, dirty kitchen, dirty bathroom.

He Has An Excellent Grasp Of The Laws Of Physics

Jamie for the umpteenth time today:

"Mama please pick me up."

Honey I can't right now I'm cleaning off the table.

"But Mama I can't pick up myself or else I'd fall down."

Coffee And Vomit. Hopefully Not At The Same Time.

Why does sick always happen at night?

What started with two whiny children yesterday, culminated in up-all-night-cleaning-up-bodily-fluids-of-the-disgusting-smelly-variety. Seriously, my house smells like we had a Bulimic Convention last night and someone passed out complimentary Ex-Lax and tongue depressors.

It doesn't help that when Sabrina needs to puke she simply stops in her tracks, wherever she is, and lets fly. She sees no reason to even attempt to reach a toilet or garbage can. My mother delights in telling me repeatedly that I was the same way as a child. I suppose this means someday I will laugh as I watch Sabrina scrub her child's vomit from the couch.

I am now the proud owner of two children that resemble wet noodles draped over my couch. If noodles could whine, that would be my kids. Wet washrags have more oomph than these two.

I'm surviving on caffeine and the hope that they will be done before tonight.

You may have noticed that's two children I mentioned being sick. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Apparently I have three feet these days.

Unfortunately I still only have two hands. And one of them is firmly wrapped around a coffee mug.

Things That Go RALPH In The Night

To say we've been sick around here would be a MASSIVE understatement. At the moment we are dealing with no less than pneumonia, double ear infection, croup, and diarrhea. And of course the basic runny stuffy sneezy noses that accompany most of those things.

At bedtime it sounds like a chorus of barking seals. Barking seals that surreptitiously rub snot all over your shoulder when you're tucking them in. Then Dave and I sit down and wait.

Because within 15 minutes someone's gonna throw up.

We've gotten the whole thing down to a military, tag-team, precision drill. Get 'em up, clean 'em up, change the bed, put 'em back to bed. And then wait for the next one to go.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Last night Jamie started the game early and I was still putting Meredith to bed, so Dave had to deal with it on his own. I use the term "deal with it" verrrrrrrry loosely.

I had just gotten Meredith to sleep and Dave walks in the bedroom as quiet as a moose (nope not a typo) to tell me Jamie threw up. I glare at him and say OK. Five seconds later he bursts in again because he doesn't know where the sheets are.

As if he doesn't actually LIVE here too.

The sheets have been in the same closet in the kids' bedroom for the past 6 years, but that's OK. Because really. Why would anyone look in the CLOSET for sheets???

And then, just in case Meredith wasn't completely awake he came in to ask me if we had any clean pillows.

I'll let you know when Dave gets the pillow removed from his behind.

Maybe We Could Put a Condom On It

I was getting a shower yesterday while Meredith played in her crib and Sabrina, who is sick, snuggled up in my bed watching television.

In the middle of the shower I heard Meredith's noises change from the normal, "I'm bored and I can't see you so I'm going to holler," noises to that urgent noise that any Mom can recognize means fear and pain.

So I jumped out of the shower stark naked with conditioner in my hair and soap all over me (I'll pause while you try and scrub that image off your mind) and ran in to find Meredith had somehow contorted her body so that one leg was stuck through the slats in the crib facing one way and her upper body was turned towards the door the opposite way. She's pretty flexible so it wasn't a permanent injury, just needed a little help getting unstuck.

But I noticed that Sabrina had brought a sippy cup up to my bed with her. You know. The leakproof kind. Hahahaha! Chortle chortle chortle. Snort.

I wouldn't have been half as annoyed had it leaked on Dave's side of the bed, but as Murphy would have it, it was on mine.

Gives a whole new unsexy meaning to "sleeping on the wet spot."

There's Plenty More Where That Came From

If you know me, you know I've recently been suffering from a long string of self-inflicted klutz injuries.

First I walked into a door and gave myself a shiner. You know how when women are being abused they always say they walked into a door and nobody ever believes them because Seriously??? Who really walks into a door? Well, that would be me. So I'm trying to think up a good cover for walking into the door cause I can't admit I walked into a door, people will think he's smacking me around.

Then the next day I tripped on my own pants leg and went flying across the room, giving myself a serious case of rug rash and temporarily dislocating my big toe.

Then I pulled a muscle in my neck IN MY SLEEP! I knew I was talented, but I think hurting oneself in one's sleep deserves a special klutz award.

I was sure I was done being stupid, but alas, I have plenty more stupid in me.

Yesterday evening after having just changed a diaper and needing to scrape the contents of said diaper into a little container that was currently downstairs (yeah you read that right - if you're REALLY lucky I might explain WHY I am collecting diaper droppings), I proceeded down the steps carrying Meredith and poopy diaper in question. In separate hands of course as Meredith is prone to sticking things in her mouth regardless of fragrance.

So this left no hands to hold the handrail. I'm sure you see where I'm going with this by now.

In an amazing act of maternal protection I managed to contort my falling body, not unlike a cat falling from a second story window, to land, if not on my feet, at least on a well-cushioned area of my anatomy. In doing so I managed to twist my ankle and injure the above mentioned posterior. And of course the diaper went flying and landed business side down, draped over the baby gate at the bottom of the steps.

Luckily Meredith just thought it was a new and exciting way to go downstairs and was completely unfazed by the whole performance.

Merry Christmas everyone! I have to go disinfect my baby gate.....

How to Make a Baby Really Mad

Step 1: Give baby dose of Amoxicillin. Baby does not even like Tylenol which is basically sugar syrup, so bright pink liquid poo thinly flavored with bubble gum is bound to go over like a lead balloon. Administer entire syringe while minimizing spitting, gagging and vomiting. Then administer one more milliliter as pharmacy cannot find syringe that holds all 6 prescribed milliliters at one time. Repeat twice daily.

Step 2: Attempt to hook up nebuliser which involves tubing and several separate plastic parts. Also must squirt tiny vial of liquid medicine into cup before attaching cup to said plastic parts. Do all of this while holding baby who wants to chew on plastic parts. Alternately set baby down and let her scream while you assemble. Hold baby on your lap while machine blows medicated mist into baby’s face.

For 8 minutes.

Eight……very…..loooooooong……..minutes.

Bonus points: Clean all plastic parts and tubing immediately afterward while balancing unhappy baby on hip.

Step 3: Baby must lie down on couch. Hold baby’s eye open and place two drops of medicated eyedrops in eye all while baby turns head side to side in frantic attempt to avoid drops. Repeat on other side. Try to grow extra arms.

Do all of the above before 8 am.

Repeat several times throughout the day.