Some days are so beautiful, so magical, so filled with the glow of children's laughter, that you are reminded just how amazing being a parent is. I'm sure my magical parenting day is somewhere... just around the corner... it'll happen eventually.
Well, yesterday was not one of those days. It was a variety of the other sort. The kind of day where if you don't laugh, you're gonna end up crying.
I was primed for a serious day of packing. Emptying my cupboards, and filling up the garage with neatly stacked boxes. I was getting along quite nicely, making the tough decisions of toss or keep. That was, until the clock struck nine and it was time to wake up Little Man.
To my dismay, I noticed he was burning up as I hoisted him out of the crib. The thermometer ended up reading 103. Plus, he was lethargic. As in, I've never seen him sprawled out in my lap watching TV for this long. Kid is usually a tornado of movement, unable to sit still or do only one activity in a single minute. I sent out the distress calls. A text to The Husband, and a call to Dr. Mom. (my Mom... who is always armed & ready to hop on WebMd and scare the crap out of me) Both confirmed they thought it a good idea to give the pediatrician's office a ring.
Now, this is not my first rodeo, people. I know you can pretty much get into see a doc if you act desperate enough. I also know that sitting in a doctor's office with a sick kid, and a resulting "it's just a virus" diagnosis is practically the seventh circle of hell. I left a casual "here's what's going on over here, I don't know if he needs to be seen or not" message with the nurse, hoping she'd just tell me to keep him hydrated.
Nope! I got a quick call back from a nurse all too ready to schedule us to come in. Could I make it in half an hour? Um, no. Everyone is still pajama'd. And it's a 15 minute drive. I made an appointment for 11:30 and started the pomp & circumstance of getting everyone dressed, fed, and out of the house in one piece. Stopping once to drop the twins off at my mother's house.
I was encouraged to find an empty "sick" waiting room. There was hope! By this point, Little Man was not any less of a limp noodle, and he refused to eat or drink anything. (which was disheartening because the kid is nothing if not hungry AND thirsty at all times) The doc surmised the situation and concluded that it was either a UTI (bladder infection) or... a dreaded virus that nobody can do anything about. He'd have to give a urine sample to be sure.
A urine sample... from a kid who refused to eat or drink anything. Sure, no problem. Little Man was already having fits of massive proportions any time a nurse entered the room. I can't so much blame him- I'm sure the stick on plastic bag stuck to your privates is not a pleasant experience. He swiftly smacked away the electrolyte popsicle the nurse gave him. His screams of displeasure could be heard several counties over.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting in the exam room for some yellow bodily fluid, the doctor suggested I take him for a walk around the hospital to get him to relax and let go of the goods. "Take as long as you need," she purred. Ok. Fine. I'll stroll around the "healing gardens" for a bit. Maybe grab a bite in the cafeteria.
Two hours later, and still the pee-bag remained empty. Plus, Little Man was falling asleep (as it was naptime) and I was waking him up every half hour checking his sticky around the privates bag. I decided to give up and head to my Mom's house for a Diet Coke and a much needed pep talk from a Mommy of my very own. I packed a prickly baby into his carseat and made the drive over to my parent's house. As soon as I swung open the door, with baby on my hip, I felt a warm and wet sensation trickle down my stomach. I was desperately hoping an improperly secured sippie cup was to blame.
Oh, no! It was the highly anticipated pee pee. And it was escaping from the bag- right onto my shirt. Not only had I just left the doctor's, I was also drenched in urine.... and I now had to turn right around and head back to to the office... smelling like pee. I used my entire vocabulary of swear words as I strapped the screaming baby into the car. It didn't help that the nurse was in a plucky mood and suggested I had been at the movies the whole time. (I glared at him and informed him I had been walking the hospital halls for two straight hours)
They quickly removed the pee bag, tested the urine, and concluded it was, indeed, JUST A VIRUS. Go home, give him plenty to drink, and let him rest.
The ramifications of this trip? The girls would end up skipping naps entirely, Little Man would refuse all fluids and end up being put to bed at 4:30, he would wake up every two hours needing proper soothing, and I wouldn't get any sleep most of the night.
At least one thing went right: The Husband got off work early- and put the girls to bed unassisted while I watched Extreme Couponing. There was also a Subway sandwich and chocolate chip cookies involved.
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