So everyone is sick again. I am sick, Jax is sick, and Mighty Hubby is also sick. As anyone with two children knows (and yes, I am counting my husband as the second child in our house!), when your kids are sick, mommy's needs come dead last. Or not at all.
Yesterday, Jax fell asleep around 8:30am, after being up since 4. I tried to go with the flow, but instead of resting, I had to prepare for our tax appointment. I drank three cups of uber-strong coffee, and in a cracked out haze, I managed to get almost everything done. Just as I sat down to rest, Jax was up and raring to go. He slept almost 3 hours, which is a nice long nap for him. But, alas, since he went down so early, it was now only about noon. I put on my happy face and decided to push on through the day, and put him to bed early, take Nyquil, and pass out myself. I can do this! I only have to make it to 7:00pm...
Unfortunately, as we headed home around 4pm, Jax knocked out in the car. I tried to quell the rising tide of anxiety that this triggered. Now what?! If he naps now, even for 15 minutes, he WILL NOT go down for at least 4 hours. I know this for certain, as I have tried literally everything other than drugging the kid to get him back down before his "window".
I frantically calculated some times as I drove. Luckily, my fried, fevered brain had been sharpened by the hours I spent that morning adding up receipts. My pathetic thought spirals went something like this:
"It's ok. If he naps in the car and wakes when we get home, he will still be back in bed by 8:15! Thats not too bad! I can make it another few hours...I can do it!"
Then, we got home and the kid was so wrecked he didn't even wake up as I carried him up the stairs while two dogs barked and a fire truck went by.
"It's ok. Even if he naps until 5:30pm, I can still get him back down by 9:30pm! That's not too bad. I can make it another few hours...I can do it!"
Then we get up the stairs to find Mighty hubby passed out on the couch.
"Ugh..." he groans. "I am SO sick..."
MH has been in bed ALL DAY. And ALL NIGHT the night before. Tonight, he is taking the night off. Ok, in his defense he really does seem sick. But, so am I. And I have had the baby all day. I beg shamelessly for help, and MH agrees that he will help once Jax wakes up from this weird late afternoon nap.
I rush around the house, which is a disaster, straightening and preparing dinner. Jax should be up any moment...right?
Wrong. Jax takes a marathon nap and doesn't wake up until 6pm. I didn't have the heart to wake him, because he too, is sick. And unlike his parents who can resort to wonderful things like Nyquil and Sudafed, there is no Nyquil for Infants.
"It's ok. MH is going to help.....wait, where is MH???"
Where is he? He is asleep. Sound asleep in the guest bedroom. Arrgh. I poke my head in there, and he is an incoherent mess. Lucky for him, I decide to invoke my Inner Supermom power and handle everything myself. And do it well, dammit!
A rush of adrenaline surges through my veins and I get the baby fed, bathed, and changed. I find myself wondering what the Dr. is going to tell me about my cortisol levels next month. It's amazing I have any adrenaline left to resort to, but I am grateful for the rush of energy.
We play trucks, puzzles, and read some books. Around 9pm, my voice starts to go. We watch some alphabet videos on youtube. I am so done. I apologize to Jax and figure he is safer in the crib rather than running around the house while I am passed out. I am estimating I have about 15 minutes until I drop from sheer exhaustion. I get Jax tucked in bed, and thankfully he does not protest.
I stumble around rounding up the dogs and getting ready to begin a Nyquil-induced stretch of sleep. First, Inner Supermom insists that I bring MH some water. Feeling myself practically beaming with my newfound inner strength and ability to take care of MH's thirst before I have had the chance to sit down today, I turn to leave the room.
MH thanks me profusely, and then asks what's for dinner. Dinner? Ha! Doesn't he know that I subsist almost completely on the baby's leftover bits? If I ever chance to eat dinner, it is at the expense of some much-needed sleep, a shower, or a chance to use the toilet without an audience! Grr.
I manage to whip up some leftovers into something healthy and make a plate for MH. After all, he will need his strength if he is going to help out tonight whilst I go to bed. My throat is starting to feel like sandpaper, my head aches, and I feel like I have a ton of bricks on my chest. I feel the delirium settling in. Perhaps that is why I actually believe I will be going to bed in the near future.
I blink and the food has disappeared. MH has taken a massive dose of Nyquil, and he is GONE, leaving a trail of dirty dishes and used tissues in his wake. Back to never never land in the span of about 3 minutes. Dismayed, I realize I am starving. I eat some crackers, and then Jax starts crying. My mind whirls. Fever? Earache? I picture myself alone and disoriented in the emergency room with a screaming toddler. Not happening. I give the baby some Tylenol and spend the next hour rocking and shushing him. Finally, finally, he goes down.
I get the house locked up, and oops, I forgot to give the dog her meds. I force some pills down the throat of a very pissed off chihuahua. A few moments later, my whole body vibrates as I lie down in bed, the warm buzz of cherry-flavored Nyquil settling into my tummy. It's nearly 11pm. By all rights this kid should sleep until at least 6:00am right? I am sick, and desperately need rest. My fried brain does some quick calculations. If I manage to pass out by 11:30, and he sleeps until 5:30 or 6:00, that would allow me to sleep for 6 HOURS or more! I am elated as I drift into a Nyquil-induced haze.
At this point, I wonder why I am surprised at the loud screaming that yanks me from my warm bed into pitch black darkness and a perfect quiet. A few hours later, Jax and I are in my bed. I am lying there willing my cold to go away. He is poking me and saying "Hi, Mama!"
The sunrise looks pretty today, I think ruefully. As does Anthony Wiggle...
Hours of sleep logged this week: 24.