Sunday, November 02, 2008

The Ring of Fire

This morning I had a thought, I bet Dante did not have any children. If he had, then he would have known that there are WAY more than 7 levels of hell. There is the "pouting because I cannot get what I want" hell. The always lovely "just pooped all over my clothes and rolled in it but you still love me because I am cute" hell. Last night we descended into "baby during cold and flu season" hell.

After getting home from my 8 hour day and 1 hour drive yesterday, I was pretty beat. My MIL gave me the Dude (she was babysitting because the German was cutting down trees . . . don't ask) and told me what an angle he had been the whole day. I noticed that his nose was a bit runny and as I wiped it up she said, "Oh, yeah, a lot of yellow stuff has come out of there today!" Uh oh.

The Dude was tired and cranky by bed time. But he ate well and basically went right to sleep, so I thought we were in the clear. The German and I enjoyed a glass of wine and a bit of TV. [insert ominous foreshadowing music here] By 9:45 I was ready to call it a night. As I snuggled in bed with a book, the German stayed downstairs to watch the rest of the football game. That was when I heard the first cry.

To make a long story short, the Dude cried (I mean really cried, none of this whiny, soft moans) off and on until 3:00am. Around 10:30 the German came to bed and promptly started snoring. By 11:30 I could only imagine that this was hell. I was exhausted and had a stuffed up kid and husband. To make matters worse, it felt like a hell of my own making.

I decided to escape and headed downstairs. I continued to read and had the TV on in the background. The Dude would calm down for about 30 minute intervals and about every 45 minutes I had to go into his room, roll him onto his back, pop his pacifier into his mouth and stroke his cheek to calm him down.

Around 2:00 I decided that since I was up, I might as well do something. I cleaned out the dishwasher and finished the dishes. I even planned all of my English lessons for the week. By 3:00 everything had started to calm down and I was about to crash. The snoring husband continued to be a problem and I could not get to sleep on the sofa.

So I decided to be a selfish beast and I kicked the German out of bed and into the guest bed into his office. I fell into bed and actually slept until I heard the Dude around 7am.

Of course we immediately went to the pharmacy this morning and got some nose drops for the Dude. He does not have a cough or a fever. Just a really stuffy nose, which I assume makes it hard for him to sleep.

He is in bed now and I am hoping that things will be better tonight, because frankly they cannot get any worse.

Uh oh. I think I hear Dante laughing in the background and the ominous music starting up again.

UPDATE: The Dude slept from 7:15pm last night to 6:50am. We did not hear a peep out of him. Well, he may have said something but we were both so tired that we did not hear it. I slept 9 hours last night. I am not celebrating, however. Because what the Dude giveth the Dude can taketh away.

3 comments:

Maria said...

When I was puked on five or so times one night (not baby spit up either... I mean projectile vomit), I decided this isn't a job for the meek...or those who coven sleep.

Caffienated Cowgirl said...

yes, that is a truism. my husband was out of town and I went through a 'oh my god, I think my child has Scarlet Fever' night...luckily it was only roseola, but it was a fright and hell nonetheless :)

Carrie said...

Ah, how cute- baby's first cold. You'll thank back to how wonderful that is when he's 15.