Well, maybe that one time, or the other.

Whatever.  It is an unusual occurrence.

While I am well aware that parents live busy lives and juggle a multitude of tasks on a daily basis, a parent’s greatest responsibility is the well being of their child(ren).  Or it should be, right?

Recently for us, our greatest concern has been the cold/flu season.  Our efforts for staying healthy have reached far beyond vigilant hand washing, Purell, and cautiously avoiding sick individuals.  In fact, aside from going to preschool, or to the grocery store once a week (without Babisodes), we pretty much stay home.  Even on the weekends. Not only to avoid illness, but also to avoid spending a bunch of money by going out.

But as diligent as we are as parents, I know there is only so much we can do.  Other factors are completely out of our hands.

Factors similar to when we decide to sit behind the wheel.  As much as we trust our driving skills, and follow the rules of the road, there will always be some fool out there too busy LOL-ing or ROTFL-ing to calculate the distance between their front fender and your rear-end. WTF, right?

Apparently, a similar risk applies when dropping a child off at preschool.

Last week it was my turn to volunteer in my daughter’s preschool classroom for the day.  It was a great opportunity for me to get a glimpse at Babisodes interacting with her friends and teachers. However, while doing so, it was quite apparent that a few children should not have been sent to school that day.  As a nurse, I know that a cough can last for weeks. And children are able to run and play with a lingering cough just fine without it being a risk to themselves or others.

However, if your child can barely stand up or complete a sentence without a glazed look washing over their face, they should STAY HOME.  It doesn’t matter if they don’t have a fever anymore.  They need to rest and recover.

I cannot blame anyone but these kids’ parents.

The preschool day is only 2.5 hours long. Full days do not exist.  Therefore, these parents thought it was more important for their child to wander aimlessly around class like coughing zombies, than to keep them home for a few hours.

Now Babisodes, who had not been anywhere but preschool, has a fever of 104F degrees and is coughing to the point of gagging all day and night.  Not to mention, our pediatrician is not responding to our calls because their staff is fielding over 100 calls a day for patients presenting H1N1 flu symptoms.

Patients like us.  But we will never find out if she actually has H1N1, because we can’t actually speak to the doctor.

Instead, we’re getting call backs from a pediatric nurse who cannot diagnose or dispense anything other than advice I already know.

So to those parents who decided their trip to the grocery store, hair salon, or wherever it was they had to be for a few hours that was so damn important their child had to come to school…

I hope it was worth it.

I will be sure to send you our insanely expensive co-pay and bills if our daughter ends up in the E.R.

Note:  Our preschool sent out a notice last week to keep all sick children home for a full week if they are sick.  Apparently, not everyone got the memo.

As I write this, it is still only Tuesday. TUESDAY.

Okay, so maybe it is just me.

Perhaps it may have something to do with the fact that I am on lock down upstairs. Alone.

Babisodes is spiking a fever so she is spending quality time with Dadisodes while I count the tiny cracks on the ceiling of my bedroom.

It is very sweet of him to take time away from work and take over the reigns so the fetus and I are not exposed to germs, but I’m losing my marbles. I feel awful hearing Babisodes’ congested voice downstairs and not being able to take care of her.

Not to mention, this week is when I finally have my level 2 ultrasound. This means my doctor will be checking for fetal growth and signs of abnormalities, as well as determining the long awaited sex of the baby.

In the meantime, I am doing my best to pass the time while I’m in the hole. I haven’t lost it enough to sign up for NaBloPoMo or NaNoWriMo again just yet (have you?), but I have been reading blogs, scouring Craigslist for crap I don’t need, and crocheting a bazillion small projects.

I rarely crochet.

In fact, I honestly have no idea how to do it properly and the last time I tried was over 5 years ago.

Nonetheless, I now have enough kitchen towels and beanie hats for everyone in the neighborhood.

I also just completed a multicolored, unisex newborn hat.

Simply because I could not wait the extra few days to make a solid pink or blue one.

Maybe next time.

Visit 5 Minutes for Mom to see other Wordless Wednesday participants.
Or visit Seven Clown Circus for Wordful Wednesday.

Not enough hours
left ’til her 3rd birthday bash
Twenty-four hours

Working on a post
dedicated just for her
Perhaps on Monday

Til then, I scramble
since the birthday girl and I
have caught ourselves colds

Crossing our fingers
that fevers and wet noses
will clear up in time

For the past 2.5 years there has been no stopping Babisodes. She came out the womb with a fist in the air (many stitches my friends), super-man style, and has circled our world ever since. She’s faster than a speeding crawler, more powerful than Thomas the Train, and is able to leap tall crib railings in a single bound. She’s always been one tough cookie. Bonks on the head while learning to crawl? No problem. Shots at the pediatrician? Piece of cake. Up until she witnessed Chuck-E-Cheese in person, she rarely found anything to make a fuss over. Being a crybaby just wasn’t part of her repertoire.

Until Sunday.

This past father’s day Babisodes woke with an occasional cough. Since then the cough has developed into hacking, blue-in-the-face episodes with a prolonged gag finale. The innate nurse within me immediately reacts to any oxygen-deprived scenario. I find myself stifling my urge to yell “suction!” while reaching for an O2 mask. So instead I sit on the sidelines, consoling and coaching her to cough it up and spit. It’s. NOT. working. Feed this kid some spinach- Insta-spit. Give her some toothpaste and ask her to spit- Negative.

Her inability to follow direction and expel the root of her congestion (sorry if TMI) is prolonging her recovery. However, she has caught on quickly to my consoling. It appears that the kid who happily ran around like a monkey even with a 104°F temperature is slipping away. Four days of coughing, sneezing and me running over to verify she’s still breathing, has seemingly loosened that super-hero cape.

Behold our future OSCAR nominee…

A Little Sick from Sandy Momisodes on Vimeo.

(Please excuse my voice in this clip. Babisodes coughing in my face has taken its toll)

p.s. Video clips sometimes mess up my blog. If it does, I may need to delete this clip from the post. Anyone else have this problem?

It’s been over 2 years since I last worked the graveyard shift, but in all this time it’s been a struggle adjusting to my new schedule. I had to wean myself of my regular midnight-2am lunchtime, and sleeping while the sun was out. All of these tiny nuances took months and months to overcome. And last week, I noticed the greatest progress yet. I began feeling tired around 10pm.

*Gasp*

You have to remember that for years, by this time in the day, I had not even had lunch yet. This was a huge breakthrough. Or was it?

Several days later I woke with a nasty head cold (which I still have). Could my body have been trying to fight off something? Possibly. But I was sort of eating well, going to bed earlier. What went wrong?

On Friday night, I climbed into bed beside Dadisodes. My eyes squinted at the alarm clock across the room to see the time reading 10:37pm. “Yes!” I said to myself as I lay down on my side and pulled the soft, worn comforter over my body. Beside me, Dadisodes lay flat on his back already drifting off. I leaned in closer to his body for warmth and placed my head right on the inside of his shoulder. In the gap perfectly suited for the side of my cheek. As I closed my eyes I whispered, “Good night, night. See you in the morning,” as I always do. I lay still for a few minutes with my eyes closed. Feeling his heartbeat beneath the palm of my hand. And then, I turned over onto my other side, curled up, and fell fast asleep facing the other way.

What?

I can only cuddle for so long. I can never fall asleep that way.

Hours passed through the night as we both slept. While lying on my side I felt the urge to curl up more and bring my chin to my chest. My eyes still closed, I began to shiver. My right hand slowly drew up my left forearm to discover it freezing! I creaked my eyes open at the green alarm clock light reading 4:28am. Directly in front of my face were both my knees and arms, curled up into a fetal position. None of the blankets were on me anymore. I sat up in shock in the cold, dark room and looked over the edge of the bed in search of covers. The floor was barren. As I turned to my side Dadisodes laid still, tightly bound inside all of the covers. His cocooned body all snuggled and warm, unyielding even an inch of fabric.

I nudged his shoulder with my finger.

Nothing.

Violently shook his shoulder with both hands.

Nothing.

His blanket force field was too strong. So I grabbed a sweater from my bedside table, put it on, and feel back to sleep.

Wash, rinse, and repeat for an entire week, and I find myself alone in the house with this nasty cold. I’ve heard it is common for older couples to sleep in separate beds. Could this be why? Would it be wrong to start in our 30’s? I tried starting the night with 2 separate blankets, but my covers still end up stolen.

Perhaps I need to stay up later in the night. Watch the shadows of trees dance on my bedroom walls. And then, slowly…pilfer all the covers to create my very own cocoon.

Take a stab at which side is mine.