I know I said I would post fresh belly pictures (for the pervs), but today ended up being more eventful and tumultuous than I ever even imagined possible. It all started going bad right at the time of the day I look forward to the most, when Deven and I climb into my bed, put on a movie, and drift off to sleep before I have to go to work.
This morning, Deven seemed fine. He was his usual really talkative self once he awoke somewhat and got some breakfast in him. I took him to school, and he actually yelled “bye mommy!” as I was leaving the classroom. I took the full four hours I had this morning to watch Intervention and take a nap. When I went to pick him up, he seemed really bright and happy. Let me just say, at this point, nothing at all seemed unusual.
So, we get home, and I start messing around with stuff downstairs and Deven heads up to his room. I started getting really concerned because it gets really hot up there during the day when the heater is running and the sun is bright. When I went up there to retrieve him for nap time, I brought a cup of apple juice because I knew he had to be a little on the overheated and thirsty side. Well, I was half right; his face was flushed and he felt hot. His nose was also a little runny, all of a sudden. After fighting with him for 10 or so minutes, I finally got him to come into my room and watch a dvd with me, but he wouldn’t get into the bed. When I tried to offer him the apple juice, he would scream and kick and cry. He started insisting I take the apple juice downstairs and put it on the table. Uh, no, we’re not going downstairs just to drink something that is already up here. It’s not going to taste any different.
Then he got really mad at me for not shutting up about the fucking apple juice, and the little shit actually took the cup and threw it across the bed. Onto our blankets, which are the blankets we are using to replace the king-size blanket that the dog peed on (note: the one that we now have to have professionally cleaned because it won’t fit in our machines.) Yeah, he got into some trouble.
I was still exhausted, and the only thing I wanted in the world was to rest after having spent much of the afternoon cleaning and fighting with my toddler. I broke down into hysterical holy-shit-my-house-just-burned-down tears. Staring at the mess on our only blankets, and the mess created by the giant blanket shoved in the laundry basket, and with the knowledge of all the other little messes lingering around my hellhouse, I wanted to fucking run. One thing after another, topped off with a sick kid and no husband around to help…why do people want kids again? Why do people want to take on responsibilities? Why didn’t just become a groupie and a vagabond and a panhandler again?
I decided to try and take Deven’s temperature since not only was he hot and not drinking, but he was also curled up on the floor with the pillow we gave the dog after I accidentally spilled coke in his bed. He still was insistent on not getting into the actual bed. When I introduced him to his good friend, the ear thermometer, he began screaming, kicking and crying. I had to basically lay on top of him while I gingerly stuck this harmless thing in his ear. Sure enough: FEVER. HOLY SHIT, YOU GUYS. This kid NEVER runs a fever! The last time he ran a fever was when he was 1 1/2 and he had that stomach flu from hell! So, I became even more desperate to get him to drink. I also had to consider giving him medicine. I’m not even going to get into how that went. He screamed and freaked out over the prospect of an ear thermometer, and he threw a cup of apple juice across the room. Put the two and two together.
A teaspoon of liquid Motrin is not nearly as big of a deal to clean up as 6 ounces of apple juice on your only blanket.
I asked Vance to come home as soon as he could not so he could help me as much as so I could get the hell out of there and go to work. Yes, dealing with hungry, fat assholes would be a break from the stress of dealing with this feverish kid on my own.
While I was at work, Vance got Deven to drink apple juice and eat, and apparently his fever went down a little bit. I still decided to take a different approach to medicine: I decided to try and see if I could get him to take down chewable tablets instead of liquid medicine. What? He would think it was candy. So I get home and tell him if he can have 2 M&Ms if he eats the “purple snacks.” He chews the first one up, gets this hilarious look on his face, and then starts SCREAMING and acting like he wanted to spit it out. I’ve never heard a kid scream from something tasting bad.
So, that was the last time that’s ever going to happen.
He is so my kid. When I was little, you couldn’t pay me to take medicine if it had any kind of flavoring, because it was always too sweet and disgusting and did nothing to hide the taste of the medicine. It was like potpourri spray after someone takes a nasty shit in a bathroom; it doesn’t help ANYTHING. And then when I got old enough to swallow pills, they had to be small, or else I couldn’t swallow them, and I would never go NEAR penicillin capsules, because you could still taste the medicine. This is my curse. This is what my mom meant when she would say “I hope you have a kid who is JUST LIKE YOU someday!”