it's her party and she'll self medicate if she wants to

Well, the countdown is on to the big O-N-E. I had hoped of writing a meaningful, thought-provoking post on all that has been this past year of motherhood. That is until Reesie got kicked out of the church nursery yesterday.

In the middle of Sunday School I received a text message from our nursery director saying Baby Girl had a fever. They had taken her temperature and it was 101. Immediately I booked it to the nursery, scooped her up, took her home and gave her some Tylenol. The medicine did wonders for her fever. But she was cranky, wouldn't eat and was terribly lethargic.

And that was just during the day.

Then, last night happened. But I don't want talk about last night.

Except to say, you know that feeling when you know that you know you should be sleeping, yet something (or someone) keeps waking you up every half hour or so? For hours and hours on end? And you have a full week of work ahead of you, and company is coming to town, and Bible study must be planned and there are still party details to be determined and food must be made and clean sheets must be put on the bed, and you can't even keep everything straight because all that screaming is overpowering the voices in your head?

Like I said, I don't really want to talk about it.

About 4:30 this morning Danny made the executive decision, "we're taking her to the doctor."

At 9:50 we rolled into the parking lot. If you know anything about me, you know I'm not punctual. It's one of my many, many flaws. I love the idea of being on time. But just because you will something about yourself, doesn't make it come to pass. If that were the case, I'd have the Mary Poppins capabilities of climbing stairs of smoke, cleaning messy rooms with the snap of my fingers and flying from place to place by the handle of my umbrella. Some stuff just ain't gonna happen.

What was I talking about?

Oh yes, because I'm always late it, it was quite uncharacteristic to arrive ten minutes before my appointment. It must have had something to do with the somewhat difficult night I had had, which I still don't want to talk about, resulting in some form of time-management transforming desperation.

My prize for getting there ahead of time? Spending the next fifty minutes in the waiting room. Fifty. Five, zero.

I told you that punctual stuff was overrated.

During the excruciating wait with a sick daughter who was growing ever impatient by the minute, I contemplated stripping her down to save time once we made it into a room. I think I might be onto something. If every kid has to take off their clothes to get weighed and measured, why not save everyone time and have a waiting room full of naked babies who are one step closer to leaving? Can you tell I had about 50 minutes worth of spare time on my hands?

To quit the rambling already and make a long story a little shorter, the Chica has a viral infection on the roof of her mouth and in her throat. The doctor had me look at it. And because we're a family friendly blog, I won't describe it. But it is sick. So disgusting, I immediately regretted trying to force feed my daughter yesterday. Despite her fever, I was sure she was just being picky when refusing her vegetables. Turns out there were burning ulcers lining her throat.

Somehow I don't think I'll be including this little story in my acceptance speech when I'm crowned Mother of the Year.

I was bummed about her ear infection. She was five days short of making it a whole year without any ear problems. (And I realize that has nothing to do with my mothering skills, because, hello? Have you been reading this post? My mad mothering skillz speak for themselves.) But I was so looking forward to the day when she'd feel like a failure in all aspects of life, I'd swoop in and remind her of her fabulously- resistant- to- infection ears.

"You got picked last for kickball? Your boyfriend broke up with you? You didn't get the promotion? It's ok honey, because your ear canals defy science!"

After a trip to Wal-greens, this is the scene in our kitchen.


The doctor said if we stick to the regimen, she should be feeling better by Wednesday and we can carry on with all the birthday festivities.

And if this post has you running to your nearest Wal-greens to find anything to make the blabbing stop, I don't judge you.

You would medicate too, if this happened to you.