So this week isn’t starting off with quite the happy vibe I would hope. I’m thinking about declaring Wednesday to be Monday and starting over, but two Mondays in one week sounds rather worse than just accepting that it’s a bad week and moving on, so I think I’ll just look forward to next week.
(Maybe I’ll even daydream that it will be fall by then!! Or at least below 80 degrees!!)
Ali got her second cold in a month last week, and gave it to me halfway through the week. I thought I had ditched it (despite not being able to take anything halfway potent to treat it) by Friday afternoon, but then on Sunday afternoon, I found myself increasingly ill with Bronchitis (or something) as a result of it.
(Which, by the way, I sincerely apologize to all Moms of the toddlers that I kept in the nursery Sunday morning. I really thought I was totally over it. But if it’s any consolation, they slobbered on me MUCH more than I slobbered on them. In fact, I’m still picking the Ritz Cracker Paste off of my dress that one of your kids very lovingly painted onto me.)
So, Sunday night, I went to bed feeling like death. And Monday morning, I woke up feeling like Double Death, and coughing up creatures that must have been relatives of Ali’s friends from last week.
But, being the good Mommy that I am, I took Ali to Gymnastics anyway, and just sat comatose in the back corner of the room, trying to stay away from all other humans.
When they finished up, Ali’s coach came and got me and told me that Ali had just started complaining that her neck hurt. She was crying a bit, and began to get more and more frantic. She buried her head, turned all the way to the left, into my chest and refused to move it.
No one remembered anything specific that she did to hurt it, so the only thing we could figure was that she did a bad forward roll or something.
I held her for about 20 minutes trying to get her calmed down enough to leave, but without success. So I put her in her car seat (which only ramped up the hysteria) and drove across the street to buy some Ibuprofen and Chick-Fil-A.
(Thinking, of course, that if she was being overly dramatic, being distracted by Chick-Fil-A might make it all go away.)
The meds helped her calm down some, and although she was excited about Chick-Fil-A, she refused to move off of her laying-to-the-left-on-me position to eat, but she did still eat, all the while giving me quite the case of greasy-boob.
(Good thing she stayed laying in that exact spot for the rest of the day so that no one could see the damage.)
I had to wait for the Pediatrician to open back up after lunch, so I figured it was a good time to observe her and see if it got better. And, since my normally refusing-to-snuggle child wouldn’t move off of my now greased and snotted chest for well over an hour, I decided she probably needed to get checked out.
(Of course by now I’d been holding and/or carrying her for 2 1/2 hours, and between my own Double-Death state and the fact that I was also carrying newly-third-trimester-Noah around, I felt so cramped and uncomfortable that I felt like I might be going into labor any second – you know, just to make the day a wee bit more interesting.)
So we headed in for her second X-ray in her life, of course both being while I’ve been pregnant so couldn’t accompany her. Luckily, her Pediatrician has the most amazingly magical X-ray tech ever who, despite Ali not even moving without crying before the X-ray, was able to gladly get her to join her – talk that poor X-Ray tech’s ear off the entire time.
(Which is probably why it took so long – hard to lay still when you’re jabbering continuously.)
The X-rays didn’t show anything, so they just told me to rotate Ibuprofen and Tylenol and that it could hurt for up to a week.
Which means I might be carrying around two kids for a week..
(If Chris thought I snored with ONE baby laying on my lungs, try adding a 35 pound one and the Double Death of Bronchitis…he’ll never notice my “normal” pregnancy snoring again.)
Ali’s Nap was rough, and after nap continued on the roughness trail, and her position on my chest was apparently a non-negotiable point.
That is, until Daddy got home, at which point (due to some combination of his charismatically charming self and the little-more-than-a-normal-dose of Ibuprofen I’d just given her) she perked up nearly to her normal self so that she could play with him.
I’m thinking that The Magical Daddy needs to stay home tomorrow. That, or I need to hire that X-Ray tech to come over and play.