Yesterday and today I stayed home with Adrianna because she has been running a fever, throwing up and generally not feeling well. In fact, we took her to the ER last night because her temp reached 103 and she was shaking. Of course, my mind always goes to the worst possible situation so, of course, I assumed she was on the verge of having a febrile seizure (she did not, thankfully). In the ER, the physician told us that it was just the flu and to keep her hydrated as much as possible and give her Tylenol or Ibuprofen to keep her fever down.
You know. Basic stuff that nurses (like myself) should know. But when it’s your own child, all rational thinking goes out the window.
Yesterday was fairly uneventful since that’s when she was feeling the worst.
Today, once I was able to keep her fever down, she decided that she was going to make my life miserable. Apparently it was her idea of appreciation for giving her life and helping her survive to this point.
Just in case you think I’m exaggerating, I made a list throughout the day today to prove my point:
- We took Brock to preschool for an all-day field trip and she was mad at me because I wouldn’t let her stay and paint.
- She continued to yell at me the entire way home. “You so mean a me, mommy! I want to stay and PAINT!!!”
- All during the day, at very random times, she would yell, “Poo!” at me. She was not telling me that she needed to poop. She was just trying to eff with my mind by scaring the bejesus outta me.
- Every time I would sit down, she would jump on my back, wrap her arms around my neck and yell, “We-haw!!” When I would get up and let her ride me around the house, she would dig her heels into my sides.
- She screamed like I was chopping. her. head. off. when I asked her to put on underwear today. I get it that sometimes when you have the flu that even having clothes on hurts, but Jeeze, oh Pete.
- During her nap, she took a huge poop. It didn’t wake her up enough to come and get me. At one point, she started to cough and I was worried that she was going to throw up. I walked into her room and saw it. Poop. Smeared across her face. Apparently the poop made her butt itch so she scratched it. Then she scratched her face. Awesomesauce. That’s right. Poop on her face.
- When I woke her up to give her a bath and remove the poop from her body, she was mad because she was still, “Weawwy tiwed.” Again, I get it. But child? Your butt and face and hands are coated in poop. A bath is absolutely necessary.
- During her bath, she got mad at me because her water was too cold. Then it was too hot. Note: I did not change the water temperature at all.
- During her bath, she yelled at me because her “shaving cream” (Mr. Bubble bath foam) got in her hair. She put it in her own hair.
- During her bath, she cried because I had to wash the poop and shaving cream out of her hair. Feel free to re-read that sentence. The kid got mad at me because I was trying to clean the poop out of her hair and off of her face.
- Finally, she got tired of my bathtime antics, threw her hands up in the air and said through a face full of tears, “Just get me out of hewe!”
- Immediately after she threw up, she wanted a glass of apple juice. When I told her no, she told me I was the meanest Mommy EVER!!!
- She asked to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. When I started it for her, she changed her mind and wanted to watch Octonauts. We didn’t have any episodes of Octonauts DVR’d. Can you guess what happened next? That’s right. She started to scream and throw a little fitlet.
- During the closing sequence of an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, she demanded that I get on the bed and jump with her. I told her no to jumping on the bed but we could dance on the floor. She folded up her arms, stuck out her bottom lip and said, “Humph! You nevew wet me DANCE!!! EVER!!”
- And, finally. She was watching a movie in the living room, I was folding up laundry in our bedroom. She busts into my bedroom and says, “Hello! It’s me!! Julia!!!!!” And then ran right back out of the room.
I’m so exhausted that I need another sick day. But tomorrow? I’m sending her to the babysitter.