Day One And I'm Thankful

So, Day One isn't exactly how I had this whole Vacay For Sanity planned out, but the lesson in that is clear: NOTHING in life (especially with The Mom Job) is on your schedule.

Chase has run a mild fever for over a week now as all 4 of his 1-year molars are coming through. He's been generally cranky.

Then, Monday night post-bath - Chase is in pain and it's more than obvious. He is more than hot to the touch. Luckily, I am with the in-laws which happens to contain a doctor. Dr-in-law, as I refer to him, quickly calls in an antibiotic, Michael and him go to the 24-hour CVS and get a thermometer, MORE ibuprofen (we should buy stock) and the Rx.

And... we wait. The next day, I am expecting a child with less fever (say.. oh... I don't know.. my expectations were for it to be less than.. say... 103.6!). Instead, I have a child who will NOT let go of me, is curled over in pain, won't eat, won't drink, and is fighting his meds. The day's plans (which were going to be AWESOMMMMMEEE) were quickly trashed and there I am, holding Chase wondering if I really could scramble an egg on his chest...

Next dose of antibiotics comes and goes... we get back to Montgomery without Conner and the evening is a breeze aside from putting my house back together.

I put Chase in bed, blog and turn out the lights.

I can't sleep and it's then that I realize it's not because Michael is snoring... that noise keeping me from La-La Land is none other than Chase, moaning in pain.

Fever - 104

.......

Fever - 103

.......

Fever - 104

.......

It's 7 AM and he's BURNING through Tylenol and Ibuprofen. While in a luke warm (mostly cold) bath, his auxiliary temp reads 102.9. In the NICU, I learned that auxiliary (under the arm or forehead) temps need a degree added to them. So, we are talking about a child who is not breaking a 104 fever WHILE medicated AND SITTING in the cool bath.

Dehydrated, delirious and completely limp, we haul him the the pediatrician.

Chest x-rays, blood work, throat swab - white cell count is double what it should be. He's dehydrated, but we decide that if he'll nurse (that's right - BREASTFEEDING an almost 18-month-old. SHOCK AND AWE), that would save us a hospital trip. He nurses, his temp falls to 102, and we wait.

(So SEE, my not having him totally weaned SAVED HIM A HOSPITAL TRIP. Eat THAT. (note: he was down to ONE TINY feeding until Monday... darn it.) )

Strep - positive, BUT he's been on antibiotics for 36-hours. He shouldn't be testing positive for Strep unless this is a very aggressive strand. He gets an antibiotic shot (BIG SHOT, sheesh) and a chocolate milkshake (not from the Peds office, silly... though... there's  a  marketing avenue you should ponder, McDonald's....).

Currently, Chase is sleeping/resting/moaning in his crib for nap.

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I am thankful that GOD PLANNED this vacation for Conner. He's away from "the sick", didn't have to be dragged through the doctor's office and almost the hospital. He's having fun with his Nanna at Toys-R-Us (save me) and I miss him.

Had he of been here, I'd be ready to yank out my ovaries through my throat and pour vodka in my eyeballs. I would be fighting him to be quiet because his sick brother would be trying to rest. I would be BEGGING for a nap for myself, and feeling guilty for trapping Conner in the house when his blood yearns for RUNNING.

So, half a day down... and I feel confident that this plan was best - even though it clearly wasn't mine.