Movie day: too tired to read

Yep, it's movie day, also known as Mommy-is-sick day. My throat is sore, my head is thick with snot, and I'm just dumb today. I could crawl back into bed and sleep, but so far, the children are not accommodating my wishes by taking their naps like they certainly should be. I'm frankly too tired and unaware to go for a drive to put them to sleep. I already had a home improvement project gone awry, so I'm taking the hint and limiting the amount of damage I can do today.

So. Ponyo goes into the DVD player and I close doors to adjacent rooms. Mr. A watches Ponyo. The baby climbs all over the furniture. I stare into the middle distance in a stupor until someone yells. I would like to drink large pots of tea but unfortunately I do not trust myself with hot tea and babies. I'm not even reading, people, and I got a new book in the mail today, a picture book. That's how tired I am.

When are we not sick?

So I recovered (mostly) from pneumonia, only to watch little L get a head cold that then added a goopy eye thing, then a cough, then a low-grade fever, then laryngitis. Poor guy's been getting worse and worse in tiny increments; he's probably still not considered fussy by most people but he is by us.

After numerous phone calls and two doctor's visits, L's been diagnosed with an ear infection and aggravated respiratory system or something like that. It's asthma-lite. So he's on antibiotics (both oral and topical) and albuterol, plus steroids on hand just in case his breathing needs a little help.

And I had to take him for chest X-rays, because maybe he has pneumonia too. Argh. We'll hopefully find out that's a no later today. Baby X-rays are odd. Do not take your baby in a shirt with snaps at the shoulder for an X-ray because they will make your baby put on a hospital johnny that is not a baby size. I think it would have swamped my three-year-old, so it was essentially wrapping the baby in a Snuggie. A polyester, string-tied, Loony Tunes-printed Snuggie.

They have tiny little lead vests to drape over the baby's lap, and they put the mom (that's me) into position, holding the baby's hands above his head and feet so he's stretched out on the bed, then drape me in lead vests. Then they run like hell out of the room to try and do the X-ray as fast as possible.

L could tolerate the one on his back but could not stand the one on his side. Happily, they did them both in one shot each and we were out of there. The X-ray place was in the same place as a radiation treatment facility, so it was interesting waiting with people who needed to see a cute little baby.

Don't talk during a dental cleaning

I had a cleaning, I got water down my throat, and poof, pneumonia hit me like a Mack truck. I'm getting better, but I'm on heavy meds, which make the nursling cranky, which makes the rest of us cranky.

So the only update is that L no longer stays put. You put him down, bam, thirty seconds later he's across the room. Not crawling, just rolling and wriggling. And this sucker is fast. Good grief.

And we're back...

A has the imprint of someone's jaws on his thigh, upper and lower, but thankfully the skin wasn't broken. He is beside himself, crying at the drop of a hat, so he stayed home today.

They got a nap at the same time, which is good, but my plans for Target, pumping milk, and making it to a reading tonight are all shot to hell. Even if I had a wet nurse, the only thing I'd be good for tonight is scowling and twitching.

This is when it's not fun to be the mommy. Oh, to have my kids farmed out to some day care/babysitting situation where I can say, "Gosh, can't you take them? Thanks." But then someone else would be raising them, right?

Back to school

The fever's abated so A's back in school. Whew. Although he got bit this morning, so sayeth his teacher, who was tipped off that A was getting bit by A saying, "Miss Rita, he's eating me."

Conversations with the three-year-old

"Mommy?"
"Yes, A?"
"Are you taking care of me?"
"Yes, A; I'm trying, anyway."
"Thank you for taking care of me, Mommy."

Pneumonia!

A's got pneumonia. This explains the incessant coughing and no naps, which in turn explains the lack of blog updates. The goal this week is to not go to the hospital.

L's 12 weeks and 13 pounds, 13 oz. Yeesh.

I'll take my Daddy-cereal with a side of puke, please

At least, I would if I was A.

He fell asleep yesterday at 3PM in the car. We drove home to drop off groceries then were off for the calorie-laden deliciousness of In-n-Out, since their buns are dairy-free (oh, thank God).

And he slept, and slept, and slept. He slept through the drop-off of me to a reading, and he slept through the pick-up, and he slept until late this morning.

Then he sat at the table, started in on a bowl of cereal, and threw up into it. And all over the table. Oy.

He's thrown up the little bit of water he got afterwards, so now he's tucked away on the (sheet-covered) couch watching Mary Poppins, after which it will be nap time.

I just got L to go to sleep, and let me tell you, there's nothing quite like a vomiting preschooler and a two-month-old to make you break out the bleach and the Purell. I fear my hands will be crackling dry by this evening.

When you think about the joys of having two kids, you don't think about the joys of cross-contamination challenges.

More sick! Still sick!

I am just going to be sick forever, it seems.

Headed to my PCP today, and can I just say: they have their act together in that office. I check in, I pay, I go to the waiting room, they call me, I get my vitals checked, and my doctor sees me. It's amazing how fast it is.

Good (?) news: the laryngitis is a virus that's going around and I just have to live through it. No strep.

Bad news: My doctor's really unhappy that I haven't been off my inhaler since I saw her way back when. She's more worried about my lungs and gave me a nebulizer treatment when I was there.

But this led to a frenzy of: don't get the swine flu; don't get the swine flu; if you think you have the swine flu, see me immediately and don't be surprised if I want to admit you to the hospital. If you know you've been exposed, get in here immediately.

Warning signs of swine flu, according to my doctor: Fever. Body aches. Every joint in my body will hurt. I will feel like I've been hit by a truck. The good news is that the incubation period for swine flu is apparently very short, so I don't have to worry about being contagious and asymptomatic.

We wrapped up the conversation with, "If you get a fever, call me and come in. I really don't want you to get sick."

Yeah. Me either.

Sigh.

Our friends just left. Sigh. They spun through town like a whirlwind to go to a wedding, but happily were able to make some time for a visit with us this week. It's just wonderful to see them. A adores them, particularly Mr. Bump, who was "my [A's] Mr. Bump."

I am sick. Friday night I was down for the count, took it easy Saturday, felt better Sunday, did Disney Monday, I have lost my voice as of this morning, and am heading to my (regular) doctor tomorrow.

Monday I also had some pregnancy issues that were enough to make me call my doctor and my doula. (Did I mention we were at Disneyland?) My doula said, "Let me know when you're home and I'll come over and check you." She did (a house call!), which was amazing, and everything's fine. We headed up to my doctor's today to confirm that everything was fine. He did a quick ultrasound to double-check fluid levels and everything's fine. Baby's doing well; he didn't accidentally blab the gender, so we're still okay here.

So. I'm fine (although missing our friends) but sick and taking it extremely easy.

31 Week Prenatal Visit

Everything's fine. I had blood tests; they actually got the results (I thought the tech was going to lose the vials of my blood) and everything was perfect. Fundal height is 31 cm, which is perfect for 31 weeks, so all the people who keep telling me that I'm not big at all and "that baby doesn't seem to be growing at all" can shove it. My doctor's happy and would like me to stop reading any activist birth literature in favor of positive, warm-fuzzy stuff, but we all know how effective it is to tell me not to read something. I understand what he's worried about.

I stopped by my doctor's new baby store and got a birth/yoga/fitness ball to sit on. It's a cute store, lots of neat stuff. He had suggested papaya extract for my terrible ongoing heartburn, but I didn't see any.

Anyway! A is having a bad day. He's been fighting some cold, so we've got him hopped up on albuterol in addition to his pulmicort. He was cranky with Daddy when he was dropped off at preschool and he was cranky with me afterwards, including having an all-out temper tantrum in the library and the library's parking lot that ended in me bodily carrying him to the car. A little old lady stopped to watch as I strapped him into the car seat while he hit, pinched, and kicked me. (Hello, preschool influences?) I left him in the car to cool down (cloudy day, but I rolled the windows down just in case) while the little old lady took down my license plate number. Now I'm just waiting for Child Protective Services to call me for being a bad mother.

He's sleeping now. I hope he perks up or it'll be a long, long afternoon.

Cough cough cough doctor

The best way to get into a doctor's office the same day is to say you're a pregnant woman with shortness of breath.

Anyway, I headed to my doctor, my regular one, not the OBGYN, and she said, hmm, some asthma, definitely bronchitis. I'm getting a boatload of steroids, bronchiodialators, and antibiotics. But my lungs sound clear, so they don't need an X-ray, which is nice.

She also gave me the scary talk about getting a swine flu and regular flu vaccine: pregnant women go to the front of the line, asthmatics go to the front of the line, mothers of young children go to the front of the line. I'm a trifecta and everyone should get out of my way for the flu vaccines. When will the vaccines be ready? They have no idea. Call back in two weeks.

Cough cough cough

I'm down with something, a cough, shortness of breath, some body aches, but no fever. This makes me terribly cranky. We're going into Week 24 with Baby 2.0, which means I've now got a pregnancy-tight belly. During my ultrasound last week, I was surprised by how far up the kid is already (between my ribs, right below my sternum). This means when I cough, my lungs are competing for room with a baby the size of an ear of corn housed in a uterus the size of a soccer ball. Let me tell you, the baby always wins.

Unfortunately, the boy is in full-fledged contrary mode. The whole last week post-birthday-party has been very trying. A says "No!" and "Get out!" to me when asked (told) to do something. (Lots of timeouts.) Yesterday, I watched A run his father's patience ragged, which made me feel like, well, at least it's not just me. He's testing all of us.

What can I tell you that's cute? A knows about Baby 2.0, although it's still a nebulous pretend item like the dinosaurs that occasionally stalk him. I told him he could talk to the baby, and he leans over my belly and says, "Hi, baby, I'm A. I'm big brother. Don't worry, you're fine. Mommy's got you."

Sick sick sick

C is sick sick sick. It's the flu. Our doctor doesn't think it's the swine flu, which is good, because flu is bad enough with everyone in this house besides C being a high-risk group (a pregnant woman and an asthmatic toddler).

C is spending time sleeping and playing of Xbox and looking like a zombie.

A is not happy when C is sick. I tried to put A down for a nap (C was already napping) and A said, "No, I want to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed." With Daddy, of course.

No, honey, Daddy's sick.

Protest, protest, fit, all made worse by the fact that A needed a nap.

So out we went for a drive and he fell asleep and now he's down for a nap. And I am going to have some chocolate to medicate my headache.

Sick and story

Sick first: A celebrated MLKJ day by puking, rather spectacularly, as we were getting into "time to go to swim class" mode. Of course, being such a momentous week, he celebrated again on Tuesday and Wednesday by throwing up right after breakfast.

Being with a sick toddler who can talk a little is no fun, because he spent most of his days saying, "Hungry! Cookie! Cookie! Fruit [leather]! Cookie! Drink!" when he was supposed to be getting two tablespoons of Pedialyte or water every ten to fifteen minutes. This was pretty unbearable for a mommy. At least I wasn't sick with the stomach flu this time too, although I've got a riotous head cold going and I felt like I was under house arrest from not leaving the house for three days.

But this morning he was fine, breakfast stayed down, and he went to preschool. He's in a much better mood; the drywallers came to put the downstairs bathroom ceiling back together and it looks much better, plus these guys didn't seem to be on meth, always a plus.

Story: This is from last week. One of the words A has picked up is IKEA. I kid you not. We drive on 805, and there is IKEA in all its shiny yellow and blue Swedishness across the way in Mission Valley, and A yells and points, "KEA, KEA, KEA." When we go to Costco, he asks to go to IKEA, and sometimes I indulge him. I don't know why he wants to go. I really don't. I am told that these are my genes.

So here's the story. Last week, before he was sick, A and I headed to IKEA for the semi-annual sale. At some point, we went to the restroom for a diaper change. After we get done, we both wash our hands, and I hand A a length of paper towel. I tell him, "There's a trash can right by the door, just throw your paper towel out and wait for me," since I'm coming up behind him with the stroller.

A ignores me, takes the paper towel, wraps it around the door handle, and opens the door. Yes, he's opening the door with a paper towel, just like Mommy and Daddy do, especially when they see the lady who left the bathroom before us without washing her hands.

Sick again

A's sick. Again. I'm pretty sick of him being sick. He's sick of it too. He didn't sleep much last night. He's napping fitfully today. He gets a hit of albuterol, a little bit of food, and then he sleeps for a time. Then the albuterol wears off; it's time for another dose, and the whole cycle starts again.

It's been pouring rain here, which means we're cooped up and sick. Not much else to say. Christmas preparations are taking a backseat to baby care, so if your cards and packages are late, this is why.

We are thankful for nebulizers

Thanksgiving kind of petered out around here, and I feel like we need a couple days to recover from the weekend.

Thursday A was very sick with a head cold, so sick he couldn't sleep. We didn't do our fancy Thanksgiving dinner because A and I both felt like crap. C spent Thursday night holding A upright so he could try and sleep. It didn't really work. A and I both got sick enough from coughing Wednesday night that we both threw up. I spent most of the night on the couch so I could sleep.

By Friday morning, A was lethargic and not breathing really well, so I called the doctor's office when they opened. They didn't have any appointments until 1:20PM.

"Well," I said, "I guess the emergency room wouldn't see us before then if we left now and I'd rather he saw you guys."

"Just come on in," she said. "Bring him in and we'll look at him." We were there about twenty minutes later.

If you've ever waited at a doctor's office, you'll appreciate how serious it is when you show up and are immediately shown to a room and have a nurse come in to take an oxygen reading, about 92-93%. The nurse then says, "The doctor will be right with you; you're next."

Then the doctor comes in, not our regular one but one we like, the one who makes jokes and plays with the kids, although A is not interested in playing at all. A gets three albuterol treatments, one with oxygen. After second, the doctor prepares us that if the third treatment doesn't have a measurable effect, A will be spending the night in the hospital.

But it does work. We're given a scary list of things to watch for changes that indicate A needs to be hospitalized immediately (color, shoulders, belly, the hollow at the base of his throat), we're sent home with the nebulizer and prescriptions for albuterol and steriods, with instructions to treat him every two hours through the day and night andcome back tomorrow for a check-up. Diagnosis is bronchiolitis, with the definite possibility that he has asthma on the horizon.

We go to the drugstore. We get a boatload of albuterol. We give him treatments every two hours. He hates it. He cries and yells. But he is breathing and smiling and getting more towards his normal self. He sleeps more that night.

Saturday, we get to see our actual doctor. She says to decrease the frequency to every four to six hours and come back for a check-up next week.

Now he seems a lot better, although he still does not care for the treatments. We spent the rest of our weekend (Saturday afternoon-Sunday) doing errands, cleaning up the vomit from the rug (which still smells, sigh), getting and putting up a Christmas tree.

So what am I thankful for? Air. Being able to breathe. A getting better. Good doctors. The nurse who heard the tension in my voice and got us in without an appointment. A husband who spent many nights sitting up with a sick boy so I could sleep. A boy who is sleeping, finally.

Lastly, I am thankful for our health insurance, because I'm pretty sure the line-item for that visit would have been in the hundreds if not thousands of dollars, including the equipment we were sent home with. A's life literally depended on the treatments he received. They weren't optional or elective. And we came home only worried about his recovery, not how we were going to pay for a staggering doctor's bill. We're worried about him having asthma, but we're not making financial decisions based on paying for a possible future chronic health problem out of pocket. I can't imagine how making any parent worry about finances when their kids are sick makes this a better country.

Laryngitis

I've been sick. Yesterday, I lost my voice and am reduced to a tiny, hoarse whisper.

I woke up this morning and--no voice. Still. Do you any idea how difficult it is to parent a toddler without a voice? At least C's here as my knight in shining, talkative armor, but boy, my voice better return before tomorrow or it'll be an exciting day.

Boy is sick

We had swimming today but didn't enjoy it. (I'm not liking the new teacher; she's trying too hard.) C and A were up all night with A's coughing. (I slept like the dog I am--or like a tired mommy who's had a couple days of 24 hour baby watch under her belt, you pick.) I drove A around yesterday for three separate naps. He didn't get nearly enough sleep, though.

A and I went to the doctor to see if it was croup. It's not now and hopefully won't become so. (Usually, he'd have croup by now if he was going to get it.) I made the doctor laugh by asking if that wasn't something out of Anne of Green Gables and did people still get croup. Apparently, yes. The doctor's office kept us waiting for 45 minutes before the doctor would see us. I know they get backed up, but 45 minutes is crazy with a sick toddler.

C discovered that Pictionary fits perfectly under the crib mattress to prop it up. A was crying not too long ago. I'm hoping he's asleep now.