My yesterday

Yesterday evening I sat here eating cold rice and broccoli (which was honestly not half bad), as the kids were all finally in bed and it was the first peaceful moment of my day.

I haven't been blogging much. I'm sure you all missed me terribly. Although, I did get a little something fun posted late last night.

My five-year-old has had a miserable fever for over a week. He even went over 105 at one point, which scared me more than I care to admit. We've gone through most of a bottle of acetaminophen and more than half a bottle of ibuprofen. Not good.

He had a clinic visit yesterday for the second time. Different doctor than the last one I wrote about, thankyouverymuch. He had to have his finger poked and something like three drops of blood taken.

And I am deaf.

Holy screaming, tears, drool-flinging, sputtering hysterical drama. At that point they were thinking maybe he had Mono. I'm sure the technician wrestling with his finger was thrilled to be in the path of his germ spewing turbulence. She was wearing a full-body armour paper suit.

There is no way that was adequate protection.

(sigh)

But that bloodwork paid off big time, you know. We were right back where we started only knowing what he didn't have. Not Mono. Okay, that's good. At his first visit we found out he didn't' have Strep.

The antibiotic we started him on after his first visit was obviously not doing a darn thing for him so she changed it.

The next high-magnitude disaster was that we forgot to ask for suckers. Sick kiddo realized it as he was buckling himself into the car. His supply of tears was endless. At least he wasn't dehydrated.

His new antibiotic was almost fifty dollars, and that was just our co-pay.

Crazy.

Also crazy is the fact that we have carpet in our dining room.

Have I mentioned how much I dislike carpet?

Some of us had broccoli for supper, although not all at the same time. Have I mentioned how much the little Bean loves to eat broccoli? It's almost her favorite thing. She loves it so much that she had to tip her plate up to her face and lick it, dumping all of her broccoli straight down into her lap and onto the floor. Did I mention that my husband ended up with broccoli squished between his bare toes?

So, yeah, we have glorious carpet in the dining room, which is embedded with broccoli. Simply brilliant.

I hate carpet.

I'm that close to declaring war on every stitch of carpeting in this house. The Bean's bedroom is next.

About the time we were realizing exactly how many places in the room had been decorated with broccoli, our youngest boy spoke up.

"I'm tired"

And then he immediately fell off his chair. Taking his bowl of rice with him.

Carpeting? In the dining room? Lord have mercy. Squished broccoli and rice.

There are moments every day that I have to admit complete and utter defeat. I'm certain it must be therapeutic to recognize it. Because otherwise I might just sit in some broccoli in the corner and cry.

We had to get the kids to bed. It was The End. You know when you get to The End because you are so far past it. It makes bedtime routines a heck of a lot of fun.

My stubborn sick kid refused to got potty before heading up to his bedroom. Keep in mind I had been pushing him to drink water ALL day. As I looked into his grumpy, miserable, dark circles under-the-eyes face, I suddenly knew what I had to do. It was the moment of destiny for my bruised purple toenail.

Fear not, I'll spare you having to see a photo of it.

A sewing machine tipped over onto it. Just tipped over, didn't technically fall. It was heavy and hurt like... well, if you've ever had a purple toenail then you know.

My socks were already off (wet broccoli does not add much to the comfort level of socks). I sat on the bathroom counter and hung my bare purple toe (with the rest of that foot) over the toilet.

"You want to pee on my purple toe?"

He thought that would be awesome. Luckily for my toe, my foot was faster than his bladder valve.

He was laughing so hard, I'm still amazed that he actually aimed it so well.

Boys.

I'm finding it hard to believe that somehow we survived the day. Except for my sad sick boy, it's a success, then, I suppose.