Pete - singin' the blues.You know I'm not one to complain when we get sick. Its such a normal part of parenthood, family life, preschool, whatever. Kids bring germs home. They cough, sneeze and breathe all over everything, infect the house, give it to their parents, get it back from their parents, blah blah blah. It's the cold season. It happens.
Still, this season has been some bullshit. Over and above the typical stuff. About 6 weeks ago, I started a Brett family pink eye co-op. I had never had it in my life before getting it most likely from a hotel while away for work (gross, right?). So I took some drops, but probably not for as long as I should have. A week later, Peter's got it. We followed the protocol for him and took him to his pediatrician. A week of antibiotic drops later and he's golden.
Two weeks later, I get it again. Then he gets it again. Then me again briefly. Then my Mom, who watches the boys a couple of days a week. It was conjunction junction around here. Four rounds of sheet, pillowcase, blanket, everything washings later and things appear to be back to normal. Fingers crossed.
From there, Rosalie gets a bad ear situation - clogging, pain, ringing. She battles through Thanksgiving, which we hosted, and woke up the next day with serious issues. Bad ear infection. So bad that it most likely ruptured her eardrum. For real. We weren't exactly sure because she's a Spartan and doesn't really tell people when she's in pain. So she's been down for the count this weekend, letting the antibiotics do their good work. By the way, are there many worse words in the English language than "ruptured?" Name me five.
Finally, earlier today, the boys and I were outside when Peter took off for the house, tripped over a stone step and smashed right onto the edge of the deck, lips-first. The poor kid was pouring blood as I scooped him up, ran inside, kicking the door open like a firefighter to work on him. Luckily no teeth were damaged but he bonked the everloving hell out of his upper lip. Brilliant idea of the month goes to my sick wife, who brought him a popsicle to bring the swelling down, knowing he woudn't keep ice on his lip for more than 3 seconds. But would he keep wild berry sugar-ice? Yes.
He's fine now but he's definitely aware of his huge top lip ("I can't eat my chicken because I've got a broken lip, Mommy."). On top of that, it makes for a very uncomfortable pacifier experience so he went to bed for the first time in his life tonight without one. Tearlessly!
I may change the name of this blog to Warrior Milk after all these tough people I live with. So bring it on, winter. That all you got?
Oh, it is? Good.
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