Drama Drama Drama
Good morning, everybody! I am hopped up on Coke Zero and Dayquil. What an awesome couple of days it has been. And I ended that sentence with a period to show sarcasm. Ugh... So as you might have you seen on Facebook, I have been sick and since the Kid is a bit of a man diva, he took his cold to the next level. I admire his drama queen ways, I do.
All week I have been battling a cold. And I am awful when I am on my way to getting sick. I go through all the stages of grief (which apparently no longer are real but work with me on this).
Stage 1: Denial: I'm not getting sick. I'm just having a sugar crash after that cookie. And I didn't sleep well the night before. I AM NOT GETTING SICK!
Stage 2: Anger: Come on now stupid body! You are a wimp, you are a wuss. I HATE YOU SINUSES!
Stage 3: Bargaining: O.K., here's the deal. Let me get through this week and then on the weekend you can destroy me. Or how about you wait until December when I have those 2 weeks off? I'll pencil you in then. O.K.?
Stage 4: Depression: Waaaaahh! I'm siiiick. I hate this. Bring me matzoh ball soup and my Good Housekeeping magazine. Waaaah. It's NOT FAIR!!!
Stage 5: Acceptance: Fuck it. I'm going to bed after I mainline this Nyquil here.
By Thursday afternoon I had hit Stage 4 and by Thursday night I had a fever so in came Stage 5. I decided to take the next day off and the Husband said "Don't be on the Internet all day! SLEEP!" He knows my aversion to sleep. Friday morning the Husband brought a slightly snotty Kid to daycare (HE WAS FINE OTHERWISE!) and I actually laid down on the sofa and slept. I had insane Nyquil dreams and one was my favourite. We had adopted two cute bunnies and named them Lorenzo Lamas and Mitch Buchanan and they were adorable! We actually used to have a rabbit. RIP Miss Money Bunny. I wrote a few e-mails and then tried to sleep again. I had just wandered into a wonderful sleep when the mother lovin doorbell rang. DEATH TO YOU RINGER OF DOORBELLS! DEATH! Luckily a couple of hours later I was able to get some more sleep. The Kid was picked up by the Mother in Law at noon from the daycare and she brought him back to her place. The Husband brought him home around 6 and we ordered food and I ended up falling asleep again at 8.
Saturday morning I was awoken by the dulcet sounds of the Kid coughing up something that sounded like a hairball. He seemed alright until about noon; then I took his temperature: 39.6. And then I panicked. He is at high risk for febrile seizures so we are not fans of the fever... oh no we are not. And I have never been a fan of his fevers. I always was panicky around them even before his seizures and one doctor once said to me "Fevers are good." and I wanted to yell "DID YOU NOT READ LITTLE WOMEN?! BETH?!?! BEEEETTTTHHH!!!" So yeah, we gave him some Parkemed, and I tried to take a nap. Throughout the day we fought his cough and fever and had to chase him around to get any type of medicinal liquid into him...just like a bad Benny Hill film. The funny thing with us parents is that for the most part we try to instill some discipline in our kids.. please and thank you and no you cannot have cake every night for dinner but when they are sick? "Yes Sultan, I shall procure for you the finest processed white bread and most sugary brownies in the land! And what's that? You want to stay up late and watch cartoons? Your wish is my command." as you prostrate yourself in front of your snotty child.
It's also funny how when before you had kids when your spouse got sick you were all like "Sweetums! I made you some matzo ball soup and I put the game on. And if you take your medicine, I might not wear flannel to bed!" And then after kids "Great! You are sick! Thanks a lot you selfish, selfish person. Go sleep on the couch. You're breathing too much!" I never said I was a good wife. Anyway, as soon as the Kid was officially sick, I could no longer be sick. He slept on and off most of the day and that thermometer was in his ear non stop that when he is an adult, small beeps will send him into a panic. His fever rose and rose and then dropped slightly and his cough worsened. By bedtime he was at 38.1 and I felt a little better. But his breathing was ragged and fast. I decided to set my alarm every 25 minutes to be able to check on him. Hi Jewish mother, meet stereotype. At 3 in the morning, his breathing was shallow and more ragged. He was like that chick Lucy in that Bram Stoker Dracula film and I told the Husband we should probably head to the hospital... because either my child was going through a demonic change or he was really really sick. It was 3 in the morning, my mind wasn't all there.
He suggested we call 141 (the most magical numbers of them all). It's a non-emergency line that gets you on the phone with a nurse. You describe the symptoms and they either suggest going to the hospital if you are freaked out or they think you shouldn't wait for medical attention or they will dispatch a doctor to your place (this can take 1-2 hours). We decided on the house call because I felt the Kid would be more comfortable yelling at some stranger in the comfort of his own home. After an hour there was a knock on the door. A short, older man walked in followed by a young man. The doctor (the older guy) was brusque and whipped out his stethoscope. The Kid bitched a little but otherwise handled it like a champ. The doctor took out his prescription pad, prescribed some nose spray (of course) and antibiotics, thrust the paper at us and then left. The Husband and I both said "Well, he was nice." but to be honest, I didn't care. I put a sweater over my pjs, laced up my running shoes and headed out to the night pharmacy on Margaretenstrasse. (Don't think this hasn't been added to my personal file of Future Marital Fights "Remember the time I was sick and I had to go out at 5 in the morning...) I turned up at the pharmacy and all the lights were off and I reached for my phone. I rang the night bell just in case and after about a minute, a light came on and a woman who I had obviously woken, opened the little window and reached for my prescription. Call me crazy but it makes me a little nervous when somebody in charge of dispensing drugs is still half asleep. I just checked the bag after I wrote that, we are all good.
By the time I got back home, the Kid was asleep so when he wakes up, I will be drugging him immediately. I am relieved to know that he will most likely be alright and that we have dodged another seizure, I am also confident that tonight I will not have to hold a mirror under his nose. I am also a little bummed that I couldn't rest more but hopefully this afternoon I can sneak in a nap. And in my exhaustion, I have also come up with a brilliant business plan and if you are an investor, call me. This is going to blow your mind... I call it "THE PARENT HOTEL". Now you know how there are those pay by the hour hotels (the fancy one here is called Hotel Orient. Don't ask me more)? Well, what if there was a hotel like that but for exhausted parents? Single rooms, with black out shades and white noise. No Internet connection (because, hi) and a service where they bring up matzo ball or chicken noodle soup. The only thing on TV is Murder She Wrote or Qunicy so that you are assured to pass out. The bed is big and fluffy and there are aromatherapy candles and bottles of Nyquil. There would be framed affirmations saying stuff like "A well rested Mommy, is the best Mommy." AMAZING RIGHT?! You could book it for just a couple of hours or even for a whole day or night. And of course, there would be a daycare (run by accredited nurses and child specialists) downstairs for your kids if you couldn't get somebody to watch them. And the rooms would be single occupancy because this hotel is just for sleeping! So call me now if you would like to invest in the Parent Hotel. WE GONNA BE RICH!
And now after 3 hours of sleep, it is time for me to lie down and watch Murder She Wrote. Happy Sunday.
All week I have been battling a cold. And I am awful when I am on my way to getting sick. I go through all the stages of grief (which apparently no longer are real but work with me on this).
Stage 1: Denial: I'm not getting sick. I'm just having a sugar crash after that cookie. And I didn't sleep well the night before. I AM NOT GETTING SICK!
Stage 2: Anger: Come on now stupid body! You are a wimp, you are a wuss. I HATE YOU SINUSES!
Stage 3: Bargaining: O.K., here's the deal. Let me get through this week and then on the weekend you can destroy me. Or how about you wait until December when I have those 2 weeks off? I'll pencil you in then. O.K.?
Stage 4: Depression: Waaaaahh! I'm siiiick. I hate this. Bring me matzoh ball soup and my Good Housekeeping magazine. Waaaah. It's NOT FAIR!!!
Stage 5: Acceptance: Fuck it. I'm going to bed after I mainline this Nyquil here.
By Thursday afternoon I had hit Stage 4 and by Thursday night I had a fever so in came Stage 5. I decided to take the next day off and the Husband said "Don't be on the Internet all day! SLEEP!" He knows my aversion to sleep. Friday morning the Husband brought a slightly snotty Kid to daycare (HE WAS FINE OTHERWISE!) and I actually laid down on the sofa and slept. I had insane Nyquil dreams and one was my favourite. We had adopted two cute bunnies and named them Lorenzo Lamas and Mitch Buchanan and they were adorable! We actually used to have a rabbit. RIP Miss Money Bunny. I wrote a few e-mails and then tried to sleep again. I had just wandered into a wonderful sleep when the mother lovin doorbell rang. DEATH TO YOU RINGER OF DOORBELLS! DEATH! Luckily a couple of hours later I was able to get some more sleep. The Kid was picked up by the Mother in Law at noon from the daycare and she brought him back to her place. The Husband brought him home around 6 and we ordered food and I ended up falling asleep again at 8.
Saturday morning I was awoken by the dulcet sounds of the Kid coughing up something that sounded like a hairball. He seemed alright until about noon; then I took his temperature: 39.6. And then I panicked. He is at high risk for febrile seizures so we are not fans of the fever... oh no we are not. And I have never been a fan of his fevers. I always was panicky around them even before his seizures and one doctor once said to me "Fevers are good." and I wanted to yell "DID YOU NOT READ LITTLE WOMEN?! BETH?!?! BEEEETTTTHHH!!!" So yeah, we gave him some Parkemed, and I tried to take a nap. Throughout the day we fought his cough and fever and had to chase him around to get any type of medicinal liquid into him...just like a bad Benny Hill film. The funny thing with us parents is that for the most part we try to instill some discipline in our kids.. please and thank you and no you cannot have cake every night for dinner but when they are sick? "Yes Sultan, I shall procure for you the finest processed white bread and most sugary brownies in the land! And what's that? You want to stay up late and watch cartoons? Your wish is my command." as you prostrate yourself in front of your snotty child.
It's also funny how when before you had kids when your spouse got sick you were all like "Sweetums! I made you some matzo ball soup and I put the game on. And if you take your medicine, I might not wear flannel to bed!" And then after kids "Great! You are sick! Thanks a lot you selfish, selfish person. Go sleep on the couch. You're breathing too much!" I never said I was a good wife. Anyway, as soon as the Kid was officially sick, I could no longer be sick. He slept on and off most of the day and that thermometer was in his ear non stop that when he is an adult, small beeps will send him into a panic. His fever rose and rose and then dropped slightly and his cough worsened. By bedtime he was at 38.1 and I felt a little better. But his breathing was ragged and fast. I decided to set my alarm every 25 minutes to be able to check on him. Hi Jewish mother, meet stereotype. At 3 in the morning, his breathing was shallow and more ragged. He was like that chick Lucy in that Bram Stoker Dracula film and I told the Husband we should probably head to the hospital... because either my child was going through a demonic change or he was really really sick. It was 3 in the morning, my mind wasn't all there.
He suggested we call 141 (the most magical numbers of them all). It's a non-emergency line that gets you on the phone with a nurse. You describe the symptoms and they either suggest going to the hospital if you are freaked out or they think you shouldn't wait for medical attention or they will dispatch a doctor to your place (this can take 1-2 hours). We decided on the house call because I felt the Kid would be more comfortable yelling at some stranger in the comfort of his own home. After an hour there was a knock on the door. A short, older man walked in followed by a young man. The doctor (the older guy) was brusque and whipped out his stethoscope. The Kid bitched a little but otherwise handled it like a champ. The doctor took out his prescription pad, prescribed some nose spray (of course) and antibiotics, thrust the paper at us and then left. The Husband and I both said "Well, he was nice." but to be honest, I didn't care. I put a sweater over my pjs, laced up my running shoes and headed out to the night pharmacy on Margaretenstrasse. (Don't think this hasn't been added to my personal file of Future Marital Fights "Remember the time I was sick and I had to go out at 5 in the morning...) I turned up at the pharmacy and all the lights were off and I reached for my phone. I rang the night bell just in case and after about a minute, a light came on and a woman who I had obviously woken, opened the little window and reached for my prescription. Call me crazy but it makes me a little nervous when somebody in charge of dispensing drugs is still half asleep. I just checked the bag after I wrote that, we are all good.
By the time I got back home, the Kid was asleep so when he wakes up, I will be drugging him immediately. I am relieved to know that he will most likely be alright and that we have dodged another seizure, I am also confident that tonight I will not have to hold a mirror under his nose. I am also a little bummed that I couldn't rest more but hopefully this afternoon I can sneak in a nap. And in my exhaustion, I have also come up with a brilliant business plan and if you are an investor, call me. This is going to blow your mind... I call it "THE PARENT HOTEL". Now you know how there are those pay by the hour hotels (the fancy one here is called Hotel Orient. Don't ask me more)? Well, what if there was a hotel like that but for exhausted parents? Single rooms, with black out shades and white noise. No Internet connection (because, hi) and a service where they bring up matzo ball or chicken noodle soup. The only thing on TV is Murder She Wrote or Qunicy so that you are assured to pass out. The bed is big and fluffy and there are aromatherapy candles and bottles of Nyquil. There would be framed affirmations saying stuff like "A well rested Mommy, is the best Mommy." AMAZING RIGHT?! You could book it for just a couple of hours or even for a whole day or night. And of course, there would be a daycare (run by accredited nurses and child specialists) downstairs for your kids if you couldn't get somebody to watch them. And the rooms would be single occupancy because this hotel is just for sleeping! So call me now if you would like to invest in the Parent Hotel. WE GONNA BE RICH!
And now after 3 hours of sleep, it is time for me to lie down and watch Murder She Wrote. Happy Sunday.
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