I'd like to stop and take a moment to pat myself, and my genetic contribution to BabyBoy's immune system, on the back. My "spunky immune system" (rhuematologists phrase, not mine) causes me a lot of grief, my body is trying to eat itself, starting in the joints, and I am on a vigorous medication regimen to try and slow that down. Even with being in a constant state of immuno-suppression, I rarely get sick (but when I do, I tend to get REALLY sick). BabyBoy has had a number of ear infections that seem to be more related to physiology than to immunology, but all in all, he's a healthy little dude.
All eyes in a pale face.
Also, he's sitting in a box.
Last Sunday, a friend came over with his 13 month old to hang out with Hubby and BabyBoy while I went out to lunch and SAW A MOVIE with a girlfriend from work. The played as toddlers do, passing toys back and forth, then passed out in BabyBoy's crib for a nap together. On Monday, we got an e-mail: "Oh, I forgot to mention, our kid was running a fever yesterday - he just had a febrile seizure with a high fever, and the doctor thinks he has roseola."
Answer me this, internets. WHO the FUCK brings a sick kid with a fever over to play? As much as daycare rules annoy me when I get hit with them, they're there for a reason. "24 hours without medication and without evidence of fever above 100 accompanied by: diarrhea or vomiting, earache, headache, signs of irritability or confusion, sore throat, rash, fatigue that limits participation in daily activities." Do I have to start requiring a doctor's note for playdates?
The thing that really chaps my ass is that this is not the first time this parental unit has brought plague-baby over to interact with others. Does anyone remember the great stomach flu of 2011? Yep. Plague-baby started that one too. Oh, and it's the same couple that criticizes other parents on sleep-training and nutrition.
End Rant.
I should look at this as a positive, right? Each infant sickness that he has builds his immune system and (theoretically) means one less cold/flu/infectious disease later. I just hate that he's sick, and I can't help him, other than to administer Tylenol, cuddle him, make sure he drinks, and try to force food into his no-appetite mouth. Yesterday I think he ate two pieces of apples, 3 french fries and two slices of mandarin oranges total, which is the complete opposite of our normal hoover-it-down-not-picky eater.
Not even mac and cheese balls could entice him to eat more!
Night time seems to be the worst for the fever. Wednesday night he topped out at 103.3, last night it was 104.3. I cradled his strong little body that was radiating SO much heat and waited for the Tylenol to work, while contemplating the best way to commit mariticide on my soundly asleep and snoring loudly husband, and I tried not to worry to much.
My Mama used to sing a lullaby to me, best I can figure, it's a slightly lyrically-changed version of a ballad written in 1873 called "Put My Little Shoes Away" . I sing it to BabyBoy, because it's one of the few pieces of her I have left, but at the same time, it's a really shitty song to sing to a kid, sick or not. I don't sing it to him when he's sick, it puts too much worry into my head and heart.
Repeat after me: "We're entering day three of fever. This will be done soon, he'll be fine, and we'll have a nice long weekend together."
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