Baby Shank

Let me tell you how much fun it is staying home sick with a sick baby.  No time for video games, lounging around in pajamas, eating crackers, feeling sorry for myself.  What’s worse, nighttime comes and that same sick baby is STILL sick only she’s more sick than she was all day and refuses to go to sleep, thankyouverymuch.

Note: It’s fun, deciding which of you should sleep less while dealing with the howling gremlin of phlegm.  Should it be the person who worked all day and is tired or the person who is sick?  No one wins here.  Everyone slept in a recliner at some point, except, of course for the gremlin.

I’m not surprised that she was felled so swiftly this time – she’s suddenly movin and shakin (I just wrote shankin there.  And now I’m worried about this:

At the start of last weekend (one spent out-of-town), she was our clear-eyed, snot-free beacon of hope but she got progressively worse throughout and landed home a mess of tears and germs.  At the same time, she went from a quasimodo barely-there crawl to full-fledged locomotion, complete with agile pulling up and attempts to cruise.  On Monday, she pulled up on the living room chair, a trunk, my wife’s pants, a dishtowel, the clothes basket, thin air, and the stove.  Needless to say, they didn’t all work out the same way.

Tuesday at daycare, I set her down in her usual place.  The place where she sits, waves a cup around and grins like a maniac until someone moves her.  Then she flipped around, did some sort of jiu-jitsu and pulled up on a plastic lawnmower.  Unfortunately, she picked the wrong end to swing from.  Fortunately, I’m a superhero.  We left her sitting demurely at the feet of her teacher.  We left quickly.

She’s feeling better, which is good because I’ve been sick for a month and I am t.i.r.e.d. of it.  Besides, I need to stop blowing my nose long enough to appreciate her mad skills!

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2 Responses

  1. Our own recent minor brush with illness brought home the truth of something a friend told us back before Critter was born: Mothers don’t get sick time. I don’t know how we’re going to deal with something worse than “I feel kind of crappy and achy”. I am not looking forward to it, especially not if Critter is sick at the same time.

    I’m glad to hear that RR, at least, is feeling better. (And moving! Very exciting!) Would it be petty of me to admit I’m also reassured to see you describe her as a “howling gremlin of phlegm”? I once referred to Critter as something along the lines of “my screaming demon child” (after being yelled at for a number of hours for the heinous crime of trying to give him a bottle), and got a very weird look from a friend. It’s not that I don’t love him to itsy-bitsy bits (or that you don’t adore RR), it’s just that, well, sometimes “Mommy’s darling angel” does not exactly seem like an appropriate descriptor.

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