Monday, February 20, 2012

Did I just do that? Nope, wasn't me.

I've got a just-turned-two year old little one upstairs crying her eyes out. I have just returned from the doctor a few hours ago with a report of Bronchitis with a possible repeat case of Mono. I swallow down my antibiotic which calls for food, but I am sooooo not hungry. I just need to lay down. Or I will fall down.

I get a Nutra Grain bar and scarf it down so that I can take my prescription. Dinner is done for me. I didn't even want that. Immediately, I know, that wasn't a good idea. You know how it is when you are this far along in pregnancy. I feel heartburn start to think about coming up. And the pills need food so that they don't upset your stomach. But now I'm stuck, I can't eat. And my stomach was killing me before this all started anyway.

So I scrap the whole idea and lay down. Exhausted. Brian is super Dad and put all the girls to bed and has already gone to Jiu Jitsu. It's not even 7:00. I am getting 12 hours of sleep tonight, for sure. All is quiet.

So why am I up on the computer? Because I feel like dirt. I think that this particular pregnancy has given me Super Man hearing. So I can hear every sneeze. Everything. And I crave Sunkist. No Sunkist here.

Break the silence, there is a baby crying for me, by name. Loudly.

I just sank to an all time low, and I am confessing it here.
I wait it out. She's going to fall asleep so that I can.
Babies know stuff. I feel like dirt. She can tell that, right?
Wrong.

I finally can't listen to her crying anymore, so I go in her room.
'Sugar, why are you crying?' No response.
I rock her. Put her back to bed. More really loud crying.
'Do you want your baby doll?'
She vigorously nods yes.
I find her favorite one, Sheila, and lay it beside her.

I obviously know nothing about baby dolls because she repositions Sheila her other side and smiles to herself. I ask if she and Sheila want blankets to cover them up. She nods and says 'uh huh', thumb jammed firmly in her mouth.

I cover them each up and think... smooth sailing. I am dying. I think I might cry with her if she doesn't go to sleep. If I can get out of here, I can climb back into my bed downstairs. As I turn to go Viv says, 'Chocolate Milk?'

I laugh and think, I've dipped to an ALL time low here.

I get her the chocolate milk, warm it up and put it in a BABY BOTTLE. It's the last thing I've got in my bag of tricks.

No judgement necessary please. I know this is an obscenely ridiculous thing to do. Not only will it rot her teeth out of her head but it's loaded with sugar. (I hope that Vivian's pediatrician doesn't read my blog. If he does, Hi-Yee. :)

Excuse A: I physically feel like an F-. Trying to survive here.
Excuse B: I am desperate. And it buys me three minutes of not listening to crying while she drinks it.
Excuse C: I'm sick and have no brain cells, it was all I could come up with.

I texted Brian and said, 
HELP I've got a crying baby and I can barely stand up. Rescue me.

So, what happened? Glad you asked. She happily drank the bottle. Then cried another 20 minutes... until she cried herself to sleep.

And when he arrived home, wouldn't you know it.
All was quiet and peaceful, just as he had left it.

And the chocolate milk baby.... fast asleep.

2 comments:

TaMara said...

Aw, one night of chocolate milk in a bottle won't kill her. Or cause all of her teeth to fall out. :)

Right now, it's survival for you. You're sick and pregnant. Let me know if I can do anything to help you!

Frugal and Coupon Crazy said...

I saw your blog. thought I would stop by. I live in Wood River and went to Edwardsville High school.