Rainy Days and Mondays (Always Get Me Down)

In the past week....

Andrew got really sick.  Like REALLY sick.  It started with extreme fussiness on Friday (the 6th), a temperature on Monday night, and a phone call from daycare on Tuesday.  Before you think we are horrible parents, we gave him Tylenol on Monday night and he seemed to be better. Besides, we thought he had teeth coming in--as he displayed all the symptoms--and didn't think he was sick.  So, the next morning, I took him to daycare and went to work.  I got a phone call at 12 with Taira (his teacher) telling me he had a 101 degree temperature.  She said that it wasn't an emergency and we could come get him when we were able to.  Well, I was tied up with various things at work and couldn't get off, so Ben rescued him after 4.

We did the whole routine again that evening: gave him Tylenol, he stopped fussing, his fever decreased, and he went to bed.  Again, I took him to daycare and, before 10, he had another 100 degree temperature.  This time, Ben was able to pick him up immediately.  They slept most of the day and picked Emily, then me, up later.  Again, Andrew's fever went away and, though he had refused food all day, perked up by that evening and seemed better.  So, you guessed it, we took him to daycare the next morning.  I went to my doctor's appointment and Ben went to work.  Ben called me right as I was leaving to tell me that Andrew was running a fever and needed to go home.  I picked Ben up, he took me to work, then went and got Andrew.  Poor kid.

Ben finally took him to the doctor the next morning, after taking me to work, and called me with the sad news: Andrew had a double ear infection and gunk in his lungs.  Ben picked up the antibiotic and more Tylenol.

To even get Andrew to take the antibiotic, I have to hold his hands and face down while Ben pours the medicine directly down the throat.  Even then, he spits up 3/4 of it and cries for an hour.  Unfortunately, we have to do the same with his Tylenol.  It's fighting time when it comes to giving Andrew medications.

Emily has refused to go to bed.  The only way we have figured out how to get her to sleep is by pulling her bed into our room and making our room as boring as possible.  I love our daughter and have no problem with having her sleep with us (or in her bed next to us), but she has been refusing to go to bed for over 2 months now.  TWO MONTHS.  Ben and I are exhausted with fighting her.  And we don't even fight her! She is in our room, with all her dolls, and the door open and still comes screaming down the stairs after 10 minutes frightened by monsters.  Gah! (We don't brush her fears aside, but we have read books about monsters, talked about monsters, fought the frickin' monsters, and we still can't convince her that they won't hurt her.  Heck, we are completely truthful with her about the source of the scary sounds: our neighbors, raccoons [honestly, they live on our roof], and the wind.  So now she's afraid of the wind, the raccoons, and our neighbors.)

Ben is the saint as he takes care of the kids, the meals, the cleaning, and my sass.  He is working hard and I feel humbled by his graciousness.

As for me, not much has changed.  This pregnancy-induced sickness is hard stuff.  I am lucky to keep a glass or two of water, a handful of potato chips, and some chocolate down.  Everything else is immediately rejected by my stomach.  I am constantly dizzy, tired, and nauseous.  I think I keep down 300 calories per day and have lost around 5-8 lbs.  After a week of crying before work, I finally admitted defeat and gave my boss my two week's notice on Friday.

Obviously, there are more complex stuff behind this decision, but a factor in this was choosing my health--and baby--over working.  I would like to say I want to go back to work, but as this is most likely our last child (another complex decision that will take several posts to explain), I want to devote my time to growing the baby.  And, over the past 2 weeks, I have been working 45-50 hour work weeks.  This would be okay but after few incidents at work, much puking, and very fussy children, I decided that our family comes first.  If I return to work, it will be after, if ever, this sickness lets up and will be only part-time. At least for now.  Besides, I will find out in a couple of weeks whether or not I was accepted into my master's program.  With that, the worm in my uterus making me sick, and my cute kids, I have much to look forward to and much that needs consideration.

After making that decision, I felt considerably better.  But, once I got off work on Friday, the sickness increased to an insane amount of puking, incessant dizzy spells, and complete exhaustion.  My husband, after seeing that I could hardly get out of bed without puking and almost fainting, called my boss and explained that I could not return to work.  I was losing weight, keeping very few things down, and in desperate need of R&R.  My boss is an incredible woman and agreed that family comes first, so told him that they would do what was necessary to make it so I didn't have to return.

It's been a crazy day, in which I haven't kept anything substantive down, but I feel lucky to have a husband who fights for me.  With my job, I will still be "working," unofficially, as I let them know what I was doing with various families, what files still need updated, and various other things.  However, I won't be moving from my bed and will be spending more time with the kids.  They will continue attending daycare for a little bit (hey, we already paid for this month), so I can vomit in peace, but I think that once the month is over, Andrew will be home with me full-time and Emily will return to part-day preschool. A good fit for all of us.

And that's what our week looked like.  Without pictures.  If I can convince my husband to take pictures, along with everything else he does, I will do so.  Until then, pictures take a back seat.  Sadly.  But, maybe with all these changes, I will have more energy to get the camera out! Then again, maybe not.