In Sickness and in Health

I feel a little guilty when I use this blog to rant about the trials of parenthood, but there are times when a woman just has to vent! This is one of those times.

Andy's newest accomplishment is not one I'm particularly proud of. He has figured out how to seal off the back of his throat, gargle, and purse his lips in order to spew medicine across the living room. The fact that he can coordinate this effort without breathing is, in fact, remarkable. At the same time, he is wildly flailing his arms and legs, thrusting his head from side to side, and turning different shades of purple. At just one year old, he requires a small army to be administered antibiotics.

We took Andy to the pediatrican again yesterday. It was almost 5:00, and we didn't get the usual peppy greetings from the office staff. Probably because, from the moment he entered the building, he began shreaking continuously.

The doctor, surprisingly, was her usual cheerful self. "My goodness, he does seem to be a bit angry, doesn't he?" (Mike and I looked at each other, thinking that was the understatement of the year.)

"Would you like to give him some Tylenol with Codeine?" she asked. The clouds parted overhead, and halleluiahs were sung by a chorus of angels from on high.

"Yes, please," one of us finally answered. Tylenol with Codeine sounded much better than sedative or tranquelizer, some of the words I had been thinking of during our long, unhappy drive to the Capitola office.

The trick was getting the magic elixer down the throat of our spirited boy. Mike and I tried giving him a dose in the waiting room. (See second paragraph to see how well that went.)

Our pediatrican came in to help upon hearing Mike's cussing. "Try giving him a little bit on each side of his mouth," she suggested.

"Oh, you are a tricky one!" she remarked when Andy spit out half of the dose she gave him. Mike and I felt a glimmer of satisfaction that the professional had little more success administering medicine than we had. How the doctor could remain so cheerful after a full day with screaming babies and their frustrated parents, however, was beyond me.

Andy slept well last night, whether it was because of the Codeine or the new strain of antibiotics. The night before was too hideous to relive in writing. Let me just mention it involved Baby Einstien at midnight, and the Teletubbies at 3 am.

Many of my ideals have gone by the wayside during this illness. I am now that parent who has cookie crumbs between the couch cushions. This is payback for all the times when I'd babysit as a carefree teenager, and be mortified--absolutely aghast--to find a half-eaten moldy hotdog and bun by the couch in the living room. Or a melted icecream cone on a different three year old's pillow. Payback for casting judgement on the moral characters of the mothers (never the fathers) for their serious lapses in cleanliness and common sense.

Now I understand the pitfalls of living with a toddler travelling the house with food. And I'm just too tired to care. Very soon, I won't even notice anymore.