well then, that didn't work.
Daniel will be asleep, all going well, for another few minutes and hopefully I'll have time to jot off a few words.
The deebs is really ill today, which is really sad because after a dodgy start yesterday, he woke up a new man after his morning nap, all bright and chipper and goo-less. It was in the wee hours of this moring that things turned back. My "uh oh" wasn't far off target when he turned into a regular Mr Whineypants at around 3 or 4am, because by this morning he had one eye swollen and gummed shut, the other eye goopy and sore looking, he was lethargic, wheezing and crusty. Factor in his newly minted, antibiotic fuelled undergarments and you've got one sorry little sight. The little trooper still tried to smile though, and got confused when he didn't have the strength to sit up and raise his arms to give the universal signal for wanting to be picked up. He wouldn't eat, but as I rushed around collecting the copious amounts of crap every mother needs to take when they're nipping out for to the doctor's, he sat in front of the clothes dryer and enjoyed the show.
The upshot is that offering Saturday's antibiotic to the germs in his right ear was much like offering sugar syrup to a couple of ants. The party went wild so now Daniel has a stupendous infection in his right ear, a monumental one in his left, and he has a roaring case of the craps in his chest which has given him an horrific emphasemic wheeze. Consequently, my little, sweet, pure and previously drug-free boy is loaded with prednisone (!) and augmentin, has had chlorsig poured on his eyeballs, or rather, all over his face in order to get the requisite one or two drops in each orb, is having saline spritzed up his nose and paracetamol poured down his throat.
He won't be in childcare at all this week, which I'm really glad about, but because I've had to cancel the two classes and nine clients I had scheduled for this week, I feel guilty. Then again, I feel guilty that the little one is sick, I feel guilty that he's in childcare, I feel guilty that I work, but if I didn't work, I'd feel guilty for that too. He likes childcare, and he gets more stimulus there than he'd ever get at home with me. He's a social little creature too, so childcare provides him with the king's ransom of social opportunities that he'd never experience at home. Sure, I take him out and we meet up with friends and babies, but it's not the same glut of baby focussed entertainment he gets to indulge in for a few hours three times a week. Then again, when he's there he's not with me, and that ain't natural - but then again again, the extended family that once worked so well once upon a time is rare these days - and it's non existant in daniel'sworld, so childcare provides him wiht a stable group of carers that approximate that extended family shiznit. Oh, I could go over the pros and cons forever, and as much as the pro column is full to exploding, I'll still be consumed with guilt for not having him strapped to my back as I till the fallow ground.
And he's awake.
The deebs is really ill today, which is really sad because after a dodgy start yesterday, he woke up a new man after his morning nap, all bright and chipper and goo-less. It was in the wee hours of this moring that things turned back. My "uh oh" wasn't far off target when he turned into a regular Mr Whineypants at around 3 or 4am, because by this morning he had one eye swollen and gummed shut, the other eye goopy and sore looking, he was lethargic, wheezing and crusty. Factor in his newly minted, antibiotic fuelled undergarments and you've got one sorry little sight. The little trooper still tried to smile though, and got confused when he didn't have the strength to sit up and raise his arms to give the universal signal for wanting to be picked up. He wouldn't eat, but as I rushed around collecting the copious amounts of crap every mother needs to take when they're nipping out for to the doctor's, he sat in front of the clothes dryer and enjoyed the show.
The upshot is that offering Saturday's antibiotic to the germs in his right ear was much like offering sugar syrup to a couple of ants. The party went wild so now Daniel has a stupendous infection in his right ear, a monumental one in his left, and he has a roaring case of the craps in his chest which has given him an horrific emphasemic wheeze. Consequently, my little, sweet, pure and previously drug-free boy is loaded with prednisone (!) and augmentin, has had chlorsig poured on his eyeballs, or rather, all over his face in order to get the requisite one or two drops in each orb, is having saline spritzed up his nose and paracetamol poured down his throat.
He won't be in childcare at all this week, which I'm really glad about, but because I've had to cancel the two classes and nine clients I had scheduled for this week, I feel guilty. Then again, I feel guilty that the little one is sick, I feel guilty that he's in childcare, I feel guilty that I work, but if I didn't work, I'd feel guilty for that too. He likes childcare, and he gets more stimulus there than he'd ever get at home with me. He's a social little creature too, so childcare provides him with the king's ransom of social opportunities that he'd never experience at home. Sure, I take him out and we meet up with friends and babies, but it's not the same glut of baby focussed entertainment he gets to indulge in for a few hours three times a week. Then again, when he's there he's not with me, and that ain't natural - but then again again, the extended family that once worked so well once upon a time is rare these days - and it's non existant in daniel'sworld, so childcare provides him wiht a stable group of carers that approximate that extended family shiznit. Oh, I could go over the pros and cons forever, and as much as the pro column is full to exploding, I'll still be consumed with guilt for not having him strapped to my back as I till the fallow ground.
And he's awake.
posted by aibee at 14:27
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