The Weekly Peanut, Issue 33
Don't look for any mind-blowing developments or awesome adventures in this post. This week's subtitle could have been "let's just get through it."
When I picked Daphne up from day care on Thursday she was definitely cranky. Get home. Fever. Not super high, but enough to have me concerned to the point of calling Dr. Jordan to make sure it wasn't related to her infection. He said as long as there wasn't any visible redness around the site that she was fine, but if the fever persists for more than a few days to take her to the pediatrician.
Can we stop for just a second and admire our children's ability to get sick on days when the pediatrician's office is not open? Seriously, it's impressive.
Friday morning the fever was still on (I'd held on to hope she'd sleep it off), so Ian and I reworked our days to stay home with her. That's right, I did NOT send my sick kid to day care (looking at you, jerk parent who sent your kid in with whatever my kid has now). No signs of sickness other than the fever except... oh yes... a RAGING BAD ATTITUDE. Lord. I would have traded in this whiny grumpy kid for a runny nose any day of the week. I was hoping she'd be more snuggly or something so I could at least get that positive aspect of normal colds. Nope. Just grumpy.
I'm exaggerating. When she'd gotten a fresh dose of ibuprofen, she could actually sustain some pleasant cuddles for a whole fifteen minutes at a time. Maybe.
Friday in the middle of the night, I did something I normally don't do: I sleep-dosed D with ibuprofen when I'd snuck in at 1am to find her raging a 103.6 fever. UGH. Why do babies have to run temperatures that could fry a darn egg and scare the crap out of their parents??
Aunt Shelley and Grandma Ann came to visit Saturday. There are no pictures, because Daphne wouldn't let me put her down and be pleasant long enough for me to grab my camera.
D's fever finally broke Sunday mid-day. My mother came over to watch D so Ian and I could take the already planned-for and tickets-purchased trip to Halloween Horror Nights. The good side is that nothing phases my mother. Daphne could have screamed the entire night, and all i would hear about was how much fun they'd had.
We lost all the progress we'd made on phasing out the paci; Sick Daphne would not go without. She also reverted into having to scream herself to sleep for naps and at bedtime. For the record, the first night I tried going back in and snuggling and rocking, it didn't work. 10 minutes of whining did. SIGH.
Positive: D's incision site is looking pretty good. Not much draining happening, and I'd say the entire rear half of it has sealed itself closed at this point (no scab, just scar tissue).
Poo on this week. For real. But, hey, PERSPECTIVE! IT'S NOT CANCER!
Next week will be better.