Every goddamned person in my house is sick and by “every” I really only mean Owen. I am seeing that this is the curse of a six person family: One kid gets the cooties from another kid at school and brings that nasty shit home to be spread around here. By the time one kid is over it, another one has it and a horrid cycle of nastiness is running rampant throughout my house.
First it was Matt and seeing as how he never gets sick I totally babied him when he did this time. He had a high fever and dizziness and a bit of nausea but nothing else. Well, I kept his ass in bed for two days and then sent him on his merry way back to school.
Last night I awoke at 2 to a screaming child at my bedside. Now, let me just tell you that screaming children in the night sends me into a panic. I freak the fuck out, bolt upright in my bed and proceed to have a heart attack. The slightest whimper and my terrible imagination runs away from me and I become convinced that someone is being murdered or something. Usually, it’s Emi crying and my eyeballs are popping out of my head and I am flailing about kicking Dean’s ass and screaming at him to go and find out what the fuck is going on. I do this as though there is an intruder or something and Dean gets annoyed by this pretty quickly and tells me to shut the fuck up. Here is how such an event plays out:
Me: HOLYFUCKINGSHITDEAN! DID YOU HEAR THAT JUST NOW??? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT??? GO AND SEE… QUICK!
Dean: Kyra, it’s the baby crying. Calm down.
Me: OHMYGOD!!!! IS SHE OKAY??? WHAT’S HAPPENED TO HER????
Dean: She’s fine, Kyra. She’s waking up for a bottle.
Me: NO SHE’S NOT… SOMETHING IS WRONG! GO AND SEE!!! HURRYHURRYHURRY!!!!!
God, does this piss Dean off. In my defense, I’m always completely out of it and half asleep. Normally, I’m the one that is very calm in bad situations but get me when I’m asleep and I’m completely irrational in normal situations. Part of it is that I automatically assume that Dean is reassuring me in his sleep and that something is very wrong but he doesn’t know it and is just talking shit. I’m very insecure in my sleep.
At any rate, last night it was Owen and he comes in screaming his head off and sobbing hysterically. He is holding his stomach and sweating his balls off. His stomach hurts, he says. One look at him and you can tell he has a fever. His entire body is red and when I touch him, he is on fire. I take him into the bathroom but I am firmly convinced that he needs to be hospitalized and I am tending to Owen and trying to convince Dean to race him to the emergency room because I am convinced his appendix has exploded or something. I was seriously convinced of the appendix thing. Forget that he was conscious. I was so scared because his heart was beating about 80 times faster than normal and this was because he was at death’s door and not because he was crying hysterically. Nope. He was a goner. This, I was sure of.
The minute Owen stopped crying, his heart rate went back to normal and he came and mumbled deliriously in bed next to us for the rest of the night. He mumbles some strange shit in his sleep, I tell ya.
This morning, he is still sick and maybe so is Emi. I can’t really tell because she is teething so badly, though. I think she has, like, four teeth trying to all come in at the same time and it’s really giving her hell. I feel awful for her. I also feel awful for me because I have to listen to her cry all day although I feel less sorry for me than for her because she is in pain and also because I get to hold her all day when she is like this and I do so love to hold her.
I’m trying to schedule it so that I’m sick over the weekend. Wish me luck.