Let’s dispense with the excuses about why I haven’t blogged in weeks. No one cares. So, how are you?
The last two weeks have been pretty awesome in terms of illness in the Snarky house. When Josh and I were on our anniversary trip, Maeve came down with a fever and a cough. Grandma was with her, though, so my worry-level was not ratcheted up. When we got home a few days later, and she was still feverish and barking, I took her in to the pediatrician for a sick visit where the nurse practitioner said she thought she was getting over Hand Foot and Mouth. Now, they’ve all had HF&M before, so imagine my surprise when I was informed they could get it again. I didn’t think to ask why the hell HF&M would have a cough component — a barky seal-like cough to be exact — and we left with the dreaded Justavirus diagnosis with instructions to come back two days later if she was still running a fever.
Two days later, she was still running a fever and crying hysterically when I tried to leave her side. “No, mommy, I want to stay wit chooooooo,” she sobbed in her hoarse voice, coughs racking her body, the body that was like touching the sun. Luckily, when we walked in for our Sunday afternoon sick visit, our actual doctor was there and was able to see Maeve. He listened to her lungs, listened some more, had her jump up and down and cough and then listened some more. Diagnosis: pneumonia. An in-office breathing treatment and two concurrent antibiotics did the trick, and she was better within four hours. But the four hours before the meds kicked in were awful, and it was the sickest I have ever seen one of my kids. Maeve laid on the couch, under a blanket, and cried that she was too sick to watch TV or play with the iPad. I figured she was a goner.
But her lung recheck this week showed she was fully recovered and she’s now fulfilled her quota of Hello Kitty stickers for the year.
Right after Maeve recovered, I got my annual Post Lollapalooza cold. This annual rite of passage is super-special, but also, totally my own fault. But there was no time to pity myself because it was Josh who was up for medical attention. He had surgery for a deviated septum yesterday, so it’s my turn to play nursemaid.
When the nurse asked him about his pain level on a scale of 1-10, I interrupted.
“Let me be clear. Pushing a baby out of you is a 10. As you can not push a baby out of yourself, you are NEVER allowed to say your pain is a 10. Your scale ends at 9,” I said.
The nurse found me hilarious. Josh found himself hilarious after the surgery when I arrived at the recovery room, however.
“Who are you? Where’s my girlfriend? I’m not married to this woman,” he said.
“Yeah, actually you were out for three years and I married someone else in that time,” I replied. “Bummer for you.”
“I hope he was rich,” he said.
But he’s home now and the kids are obsessed with what happened. They want to know why he had surgery and why he’s in bed and why they can’t go in the bedroom and why daddy is sleeping in the middle of the day. The answers, always, are “Because Daddy is lazy.” I mean come on, I have pushed entire human beings out of me and then managed to get up and take a shower and put on makeup and pose for pictures. The man has someone root around in his nostrils and he’s in bed for days? Weak.
(Actually, I do feel badly for him. It looks painful. And disgusting. But he’ll be able to breathe through his nose in about a week and I won’t have to listen to his snoring — win-win for everyone!)
So we’ll just be over here convalescing. This is actually Josh’s greatest dream come true: he’s playing Xbox in the bedroom as much as he likes, his meals are prepared and delivered to him on a whim and he’s on the child care DL for at least 10 days. You know, this sounds suspiciously like his everyday life…