boo to evil viruses!

why now why now, why?
stupid virus invades house
panics tired mama

So the wee one has a virus. High fever, sore throat, the works. He went to the doc this morning because we thought it was strep, but it’s not – yay! Actually, yay for the wee one, but boo for the wee-er one. She’s too little to get strep according to the doc, but this virus is fair game for all. Sigh. She’s 13 days old – a fever would not be cool (literally and figuratively).

I have, of course, prepared myself for her inevitable spinal tap and meningitis, because I’m tired and panicky. She’s happy and sleeping and feeling fine right now (knock on wood) but I’m so worried I could spit.

And the poor wee one feels so bad – his throat hurts, he can’t kiss on his sister… And, of course I feel bad because I’m not cuddling with him as much as I should be because I don’t want to spread around the funk.

Hopefully breast milk and antibodies and hand sanitizer and Lysol will keep more germies at bay. Ugh. I am normally a very confident mama who is prone to panicking about her own health, but not about her kids.

New territory, this. I don’t like it.

it was like the Bellagio fountain

projectile vomit
a warm geyser aimed at you
and the ceiling too

This morning my husband was projectile vomited on for the first time in four years. My reaction (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA) was not met warmly.

He said, "Now I know what it was like when the wee one puked on you" and I was all, "Honey, warm, non-digested breast milk is a far cry from a bowl of previously eaten Parmesan cheese covered pasta." Silly daddies.

But overall he handled it well. I’m very proud. I’ve even stopped laughing at him.

click-talking

those click-talking tribes
not the best time to mimic
when mom’s sleep deprived

I have glorious plans of writing down my sweet baby’s birth story, and I will, I just don’t have the time or brain power to do it yet. What I CAN write about is the wee one and how he’s suddenly become enamored with those African (or aborigine?) tribes that use clicks as their language.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy he’s broadening his horizons (cough awayfromstarwars cough), but being clicked at all day, with the expectation of understanding said clicks and the frustration that ensues when I don’t follow… well, you can understand how this might drive a sleep-deprived mama a little crazy.

Ah, well, at least this gives him a distraction from constantly smothering his new sister with sloppy kisses.

Until later… click pop clickclickclick click.