Becca doesn't have the flu (though apparently it is going around and may or may not be covered by our current flu vaccine. Great.) It isn't strep. We're waiting on Xray results to find out if it is pneumonia. If it isn't that, it is a sinus infection. Or, I'm wondering about a bladder infection (or that could just be the massive potty training regression I'm talking about.)
Andrew now has a 99.8 temp. I guess for his age it is considered a fever when it hits 100.4. So, now I'm obsessively monitoring his forehead temperature and stressing out about him on top of it.
I was up EIGHT TIMES last night (and by "night" I mean 7 hours) between the two kids--once changing wet sheets for you know who. And then, a lovely wind storm kicked in right around the time both kids settled down (which was about 4 a.m.) and it was LOOOOUD. Go ahead. Take a wild guess about my state of mind.
Becca is now napping. But I am not. Because snotted-up borderline feverish baby is not sleeping. So, neither am I. And, I can't even really enjoy his gleeful smiles because I am almost dead. Seriously.
And I know how boring this is. And how annoying to hear someone whine about their sick kids. But John explained it well last night when he compared it to trying to capture a grand wilderness vista on a photograph. You just can't get the 360 degree effect. Sure, you can get a picture of THAT mountain. But, a snapshot doesn't do it justice. And it doesn't capture the sweeping grandeur of the entire mountain range. That is what parenting sick kids is like. Sure, you can mention fevers and symptoms, but it doesn't convey the all-encompassing worry, dread lack of sleep and ultimate drain it is to the parent.
So, God help me, I'm ready to get this shit cleared up and out of all our systems so that I can go back to my reguarly scheduled programming of whining about the weather or how I need a new red wine to drink or something.