Thursday, June 19, 2014

The Drama Continues

I know you're all out there pounding your computer screens (phone screens? what do the cool kids use these days?), shouting, "Did the Benadryl help Cubby sleep? Is Charlie following the same perilous path as his brother? How much Perry's Dark Chocolate ice cream does Kristin have on hand and will it be enough to get her through this wretched pestilence*? WE MUST KNOW."

Let's start with the bad news first, shall we? Charlie is indeed in full-on rash mode. He spent all of today either scratching his feet or guiding my hand to scratch his feet (motherhood is so glamorous). Including during his nap time, during which he did not actually nap. Instead I ended up just lying in his bed with him, rubbing his itchy feet so he would at least lie down and rest, if not actually sleep. He has it worse than Cubby. He has little blisters, the rash is more widespread, and he keeps complaining that his mouth hurts, no matter how innocuous the food he's eating.

But at least the Benadryl I gave him before bed tonight definitely knocked him right out, unlike his brother.

Which leads us nicely into . . .

Cubby's reaction to his first-ever dose of Benadryl was . . . amusing.

He took it at 6:50 last night and went to bed around 7:20. By 7:30, I was in the shower, which left A. the sole witness to the hilarity that followed.

At 7:32, Cubby appeared downstairs requesting bread and butter, which his indulgent father supplied before leading the miscreant back to bed.

At 7:40, Cubby cannonballed into the kitchen where A. had started the dishes, locked the door, "so Mommy won't catch me," and then announced happily, "Daddy, this medicine made me very lively!"

A. said it was like someone had given him speed. Cubby spent the next fifteen minutes "helping" with the dishes while ping-ponging around the kitchen. I came out of the shower sometime during this episode, but proceeded directly upstairs and so was unaware of any of this until A. came up to bed.

There was one more unauthorized escape around 8:15 p.m., and then nothing. When I went in to check on him at 9 p.m., he was so thoroughly knocked out that he didn't even wake up when I unraveled the twisted sheet from around his body and re-covered him.

So I suppose the lesson here is that if I ever want to give Cubby Benadryl again, I should make sure to do it two hours before I actually want him to sleep. And then throw him on a treadmill.

* The answer to that will always be, "Never enough."

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Hoof and Mouth for Humans

Okay, actually Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease is not related to the Hoof and Mouth Disease that animals get. So despite A.'s insistence on calling it Hoof and Mouth, that is not what Cubby has.

He does, however, have Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. If this is something you have never heard of, that is because you are lucky. And also haven't been around a lot of small children. It's a highly contagious but not dangerous virus that affects mostly kids younger than five. It starts with a low fever (anybody remember Monday's post?), and then kids usually get either sores in their mouths or a rash on their hands and feet. Most sites I looked at said the rash isn't itchy.

Cubby and his maddeningly itchy feet disagree.

I spent much of last night going into Cubby's room every couple of hours to find him crying that he was too itchy to sleep. I alternated between applying hydrocortisone cream, witch hazel, and some kind of anti-itch spray for kids the MiL bought a couple of years ago. Also blowing on his feet after applying the witch hazel, which seemed to help the most but is also not something I really wanted to do for any length of time at 3 a.m.

A. picked up some children's Benadryl today, which I called to check with the pediatrician about because it says right on the package to consult a doctor for children 4-5 years of age. He said have at it and gave me the dosage, so we'll try that tonight and cross our fingers that Cubby isn't one of the unlucky children who get hyperactive rather than sleepy when dosed with Benadryl.

Oh, and Charlie woke up from his nap today grumpy, sleepy, and feverish. Another (tiny) man down.

Who wants to make a guess about the next time I get a full night's sleep? Personally, I'm guessing sometime around next week. Place your bets now.

Monday, June 16, 2014

The State of the Offspring

In order of birth . . .

Cubby is done with preschool for the year and was so, so excited for a "Nature and Art" day camp he was supposed to do this week. They were going to build shelters! Forage for wild edibles! I got him his very own (disposable) camera! OH, THE JOY.

Then he spent last night intermittently crying because his stomach hurt and he couldn't sleep. He got up this morning thoroughly wretched, feverish, and definitely in no condition to build shelters or anything else. I'm hoping for a speedy recovery today so he can go to the camp tomorrow, or else my heart might just break from his disappointment.

Charlie is a right little pisser when his brother is sick. He senses his advantage and brutally capitalizes on the weakness, jumping on Cubby's head, running off with Cubby's tea, pulling the blanket off of Cubby's prone form. What he really hates, however, is when Cubby claims my lap. Hell hath no fury like Charlie denied his rightful lap spot. He's going to be a real peach when this new baby arrives, I can already see. And speaking of that . . .

Winston is the in-utero name bestowed upon this unfortunate child by A. I must assume it's in homage to Churchill, of whom A. is a fan. This, despite the fact that we don't know the sex and won't for another couple of months.

Anyway. Winston is due on December 20, which is . . . well, I won't pretend I'm thrilled about this. As one of the unfortunates with a birthday near Christmas (mine is two days after), I can attest to the suckage. We can only hope Winston comes ten days early like Cubby did. December 10 isn't so bad. I won't even contemplate being overdue by, say, five days. No.

And that brings you all up to date. Now if I may be excused, I have some gestating to do in the form of inhaling an unhealthy quantity of Fig Newtons. Peace out.