I had a lovely birthday week last week, with friends and wine and desserts and french toast and a pomegranate – but all that ended Friday afternoon. That’s when I went from totally relaxed and feeling zen about life to Super Spidey Senses, Alert!
Of course it had to do with Maura.
Friday afternoon, I took her with me to the chiropractor (we’re hoping to get her used to how things work there so our chiropractor can work with her as well) and from the get-go, I felt something wasn’t right. She was spacey in the car. She was very quiet. I tried to chalk it up to maybe she was tired, maybe she was nervous about being in a doctor’s office. But at one point, she seemed twitchy and pale, but then a moment later was all “Ooo, I’m watching Magic School Bus on your phone, best thing ever!” perky.
I told the chiropractor that she might just be screwing with my head. He laughed and said “Welcome to parenthood.”
We got home, she went and watched tv, all seemed well enough, I tried making evening plans with a friend, went to deal with something first…and found Maura laying on the couch, watching tv, complaining “Oh my head!”
Took her temperature – 103.
And thus ended my plans for the weekend. Instead of going out with a friend, I stayed home and cuddled Little Miss Feverish as she made four hundred demands on me (which is fine, I know she’s okay as long as she’s got an opinion.) Friday night we put her to bed only for her to shiver at the cool blankets (which explained the earlier twitchiness, she was shivering…sigh..). I got her settled. She went to sleep. I went to sleep. I woke up at 5 am to peek in on her. She was fine. She slept in until 10 am, where we then transferred her back to the couch and demanded to watch “Winx”. She vomited every so slightly, which is understandable – those long legged vapid “Winx” fairies make me slightly nauseated as well. I hung out with her all day, watching my shows on my tablet with headphones and knitting while she watched her shows on my desktop. Every ten to fifteen minutes I stopped all my things to get up and meet a demand – tucking her back in, finding a different show for her, or trying to convince her that laying down would help her head stop hurting. And so the day went on. Eventually we tucked her back into her bed, where she went right to sleep.
Until 5 am this morning, when she did a belly flop onto our bed, right between us.
She was feeling vastly better. It showed in her little perky wake up call as she crawled between us, elbowing us in the kidneys along the way. Once she was certain we were awake, she decided to crawl back out of our bed, elbowing us in the kidneys again, and went back to her room to play. Knowing we wouldn’t sleep because she could be wandering the house, Josh lured her back to our room with promises of a movie. I found something for her to watch, and we tried to go back to sleep as she spent the next three hours elbowing us, poking her toes into my legs, using my hip as a pillow, elbowing me some more, stealing my blanket, poking her toes into me some more, trying to steal my blanket even more, and taking over at least my side of the bed. I’m not sure what she did to her father, but he’s probably equally as bruised up as I am.
Her temperature’s now only 99.5. Just enough to probably keep her out of school tomorrow. She is feeling great today. The parental units are considering an iv hook up for their coffees and feeling like death warmed over spread thinly across toast.
Once, as an adult, I was re-reading the Little House series, and in the book where Laura gets pregnant, she wrote a line about how if you want to dance, you have to pay the piper, or something like that. And I laughed, realizing what she meant. But really, all of life is that like. We dance, then we pay the piper. No rest for the wicked. There’s always something. Those kids will screw with your head. Welcome to parenthood.