I know that my last post was all gloom and doom, and I assure you that, in no uncertain terms I felt all gloomy and doomy in my head and in my heart. I still do not really know what caused my period of bleakness but I am happy to say that I am feeling much better. I still have moments when I feel like the world is crashing down and my patience is definitely thinner than usual but I am able to bounce back to Happy-Go-Lucky Taco much faster, to the relief of my doodles.
T Bear got sick. So did I.
He had a play date with a buddy and his mum warned me that E had a runny nose, I was all like, ‘no worries, kids get sick, can’t be avoided and besides I need to get out of this Fing house!!! Ahhhhh, I’m coming over! Be there in 5.’ This was on a Monday. T got sick on Tuesday and me on Wednesday. Crapola. Just for the record, Mel, if you are reading this, I do not in any way blame E for sharing his little germs. For all we know we could have caught this bug from anywhere or anyone, and it was my choice to come! I still stand by my mantra of ‘kids get sick, can’t be avoided’.
So here I was feeling all sorry for myself. Full of the cold, feeling like death and unable to take anything for it but Lemsip, which by the way turns out to be freaking awesome, and crying at every available opportunity to share my melancholy with the world.
That was until on the Saturday night, after the poor little Bear had already endured 5 days of yucky cold, he woke crying with a raging, hot as the devil fever. I was up with him for 3 hours. I gave him Panadol and some milk and water and stayed with him until that bitch of a fever started coming down. Subsequently the next day he slept in until 9! And then was back to sleep 2 hours later for another marathon sleep. Not like T at all.
Dudes, T just got sicker and sicker. This fever was killer. Panadol was able to bring it down but as soon as that wore off the fever would sky rocket. He was nothing more than a miserable, crying, hot, blob of snot. Not only that but the green, slimy, diarrhea poos were coming think and fast, or should I say sloppy and fast? Wouldn’t eat, didn’t want to drink much. All he wanted was bottles of milk but he found it so hard to breathe and drink them it was woeful.
We called the house call doctor who was pretty hopeless to be honest. Said, ‘some phlegm on the chest, maybe chest infection, we give antibiotics just in case.’
On the 3rd morning of high temps and sleepless nights and sick T, and the antibiotics doing jack diddly squat, I took him in to see my GP. Good ol’ Dr George never minces his words. He said, ‘He’s got a cold.’
‘But Dr G’, I say, ‘he’s really sick!’
‘It’s a bad cold.’
Way to go Dr George for making me feel like an idiot. Just call me Neurotic Mother of the Year. Turns out that he had no chest infection, which I doubted anyway considering that he wasn’t coughing! But you tend to trust what doctors tell you, after all, they do have that piece of paper that says they know shit about shit. Both literally and figuratively.
The very next day, T’s fever broke, but we were not out of the woods yet. Fever was replaced by an all over body rash. Front and back. This lasted 3 more days and finally once it subsided T’s cold symptoms began to ease up, and a couple of days later until he was back to his beautiful happy self. Did I mention that during all this he also cut a couple of new teeth? Biiiaaatch!
Although I didn’t take him back to see Dr George, I consulted with my mate, Dr Google and have diagnosed that on top of his cold he also had the Roseola Virus. Just a stock standard baby illness that goes around the town. No biggie. Yeah right, tell that to the poor mummies that are up all night nursing their sick, hot, babies!
So how did this help snap me out of my funk? Easy.
How is it possible to remain self involved in your own misery when someone so little and helpless needs you so much more? His needs trumped my crazy, preggo, hormone funk. I am feeling like I can cope now, and although I know that in 5 weeks time LSP will arrive and the shit (baby shit) is going to hit the fan around here, I am feeling quietly confident that I won’t F it up completely!
I quite simply don’t have the time for this anymore. I have 4 doodles who need me (5 if you count Chum-Lee) and a corn chip on the way. I need to put my energy into being the best mum, wife and incubator I can be for them.
It also helped that D has been super star awesome and let me have some sleep-ins and child-free moments. They really do help, even if it is just going to the shops to get bread and milk. Just being able to get in the car with out children and all the ‘stuff’ and ‘noise’ that comes with them is pure bliss. I’m not saying I need to get away from my kids, I am just keeping it real. I need ‘me time’. Even if it is just a trip to the store (although a mani/pedi would be nice too…), I need it. ‘Me time’ make me a better parent.
One more thing that made me feel clearer in my head, and was actually quite hard for me to do, was ask for some help. I swallowed my pride and asked my mum to come and help me clean my house. I just couldn’t do it all myself, and that was compounding my feelings of failure. She was like a magic unicorn who flew in with her cleaning kit and we spent the day cleaning my house. This was tough because I was embarrassed, but the end result was so great. I’ve been able to keep somewhat on top of things and everything is sparkling. If you just walked into my house right now and didn’t know that I was a total housework flake, I could finally pass as that domestic goddess I aspire to be.
So, if there are any mothers/pregs out there that are doing it tough like I was, I don’t actually wish for your babies to get sick, but if they do happen to stumble upon a few germs here and there, it may just be a blessing in disguise. Also, don’t be too proud to ask for some help, you don’t have to be super mum all the time. Just be human, it is all we can hope to be.