My house is calling my name. Very Loudly. And I am pretending to be deaf. I have been a Good Responsible Mom for three days now, and I am tired of being Good and Responsible. So I am blogging instead of putting my house back together. I did do a load of laundry, and clear papers and stuff off the top of my table, and straighten the coffee table and comb my hair, and take a nap, and hug and feed and give my baby medicine, with a kiss of course. And I plan to be able to cook supper tonight, instead of my poor husband having to come home and fix something (he makes really good grilled cheese sandwiches by the way). So I'm kind of trying to tell my self that I was virtuous enough to earn the privilege of blogging and doing something fun and different. Not sure what the something fun and different is going to be yet, and likely it won't happen. Anyway.
So, Benny woke up with a fever Tuesday morning, but didn't have any other symptoms that I could find. He was very grouchy and irritable and I held him all day long. It was the same on Wednesday, except he screamed himself to sleep that night. Which was Not A Fun Experience. And his fever was 102 by then, so I and his father both said he is going to see a Dr. I was rather sure it was ears. So Thursday I called the clinic at 9. Now I have a super awesome Dr. and the nurses are great at my clinic, but the front desk was dropping the ball for some reason. Finally by 11 they said oh, we can't get him in today, but our other clinic can probably see him. Not sure why it took from 9-11 to figure that out but anyway.
My really awesome mother-in-law had offered to take me in, since my car isn't working, and Clark felt he needed to be at work. So she came and got us and we were on our way. We had an hour to the other clinic, which gave us lots of time to chat about various subjects. By the way Mom, I researched that theory we discussed about European doctors not treating ear infection with antibiotics and that's not true. They do treat with them, they just don't treat as swiftly as most American doctors do.
We didn't know where the other clinic was exactly, but figured that it was a small town and we would find it. We wandered up and down the main track and a few side streets, and finally asked at the gas sation. They pointed us down a side street, we could almost see the building from the station.
Benny decided to be quite the little charmer, and was smiling at everyone while misery looked out of his eyes. I think that the nurse and doctor first thought I was a silly paranoid mom that had dragged my baby in when there wasn't anything wrong with him. Until the Dr. went to look in his ears. The first ear Benny behaved like a perfect child and cooperated nicely. The second ear, not so much. I knew as soon as he started fighting us that ear was the culprit. I could see the Dr. knew that too. Mom said she heard him yelling way out in the waiting room. That clinic is not very sound proof, if you wanted to, you could easily eavesdrop on the patient next door. So the Dr, said yeah he has an infection and he'll prescribe antibiotics for him (the Dr. needed to brush his teeth by the way). I didn't very much like the idea that he has to have antibiotics so young, but I am thankful for them. And I didn't think that 'natural treatment' was going to work by the time we were at that stage. He'd had it for several days already.
So I got his prescription and gave him a dose when we got home. He is a real trooper about taking his medicine. He went to sleep and slept for several hours. He woke up feeling a little better. Last night went ok once I got him settled and he woke up with out a fever this morning. He's sleeping a lot today, but he showed some interest in playing with his toys. I'm hoping in a day or two I can have my happy bouncing baby back.
I guess the poor child inherited his father and mother's genes for ear aches. Next time he gets an unexplained fever, I'll know what we have brewing and can maybe take preventative measures.
This is the explanation for why I'm tired of being Good and Responsible. I'm dreaming of a puffy, flaky pastry with chocolate and vanilla filling cream and lots of whipped topping. And a pedicure. And if you read all the way to the end of this post without getting bored, or sick of me talking about my baby, I'm proud of you.
Quote of the week:
Me to Clark at 1:52 this morning, in a not very alert frame of mind:
"I want to go to the Alps and have a spa"
Clark, mumbling sleepily:
" Whatever. You poor thing"
Which is what he says when I propose Mission Impossible.
