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Hands off the baby

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Boy Blue has been…well, kinda blue lately. He hasn’t been feeling up to his smiling, cooing ways. He has not even pulled his sisters hair in the last three days.

Boy Blue has caught a bug that is keeping him down. Bronchiolitis is the culprit!

I took his temperature the other night at around one in the morning because he was nursing and crying every fifteen minutes. Not normal at all. He was just completely the opposite of my little bundle of joy that sleeps like a baby all through the night.

First, I took his temperature in his armpit. The beep for the digital thermometer went off much faster than usual. All the other times I have used it I am stuck wrestling a toddler or two trying to keep the damn thing under the arm so I can get a good temp. Normally, it takes a good half minute. Not so this time. No sooner had I put it under his arm and was explaining to my Frubby (French husband) that I think he may have a temperature but who knows I am usually wrong and just being the over-precautious mother, did it go off beeping.

The beeping came so quickly due to the melting heat under my little guys arm. It was 102.5 Fahrenheit – under the arm. For all you people out there who have not attended Kids and Fevers 101, that is pretty high. Only in the most critical of emergencies does this Mama resort to putting the thermometer in the part of my child’s body where stuff is only suppose to come out! You know the place where the sun don’t shine. This high of an armpit temperature is one of those critical emergencies.

Well, almost as soon as the thermometer went in I heard a beep. The most accurate way to take a temperature is like this. So, when I looked at the reading I became a little panicked. It was 103.7 Fahrenheit. No, we still have not found the thermometer in Celsius. I thought that can’t be right because his hands and feet are cold. Again, if you have taken Kids and Fevers 101, you will know that the best way to determine if your child has a temp is to feel the palms of their hands and ,I have found, their feet.

If you can fry an egg on the little-heater-that-can’s palm that means you better get the thermometer and fast. So, in the beginning when I felt his hands and feet and these were cold, not even warm, I thought he didn’t have a temp. Good thing I don’t ALWAYS stick to the Old Wives Manual of child rearing. I cleaned the temperature plugin and plucked up the kid again. And, again, the beep after only a few seconds! This time 103.9 Fahrenheit! Ekes.

We took the little egg fryer to the emergency room and it turns out that he has bronchiolitis. Since, it is a virus the doctor couldn’t prescribe anything to instantly make my baby better. We have to wait for the virus to run it’s course like with all virus’.

I do give him Advil for children and Doliprane every three hours…switching them out. I give him one the first time around and the other the next time around. This is not a problem since I am up most of the night on and off kissing and snuggling his whimpers and crys away.

I am a little afraid that I may forget which med I gave him last…so, I put the box of the last med I gave behind the box of the other. The one in front is the one he gets when three hours have passed. It’s all about organization with four children! Believe me.

The problem with all of this is that he must have a massage done by a specialist to get all that goop out of his lungs. A massage sounds relaxing and like you may want one too, right! Not so.

We took him for his first appointment of six last night. Let me just say I don’t think I can stand to watch my baby go through this six times. Not because I am jealous that he is getting a rub down and I am not. It is because he is getting the pressure treatment literally!

A woman puts her hands on my baby’s chest and pushes gently down on his chest with all her weight kinda massaging and pushing at the same time. It reminds me of when I played with my doll and would jump up and down on her plastic body until her chest caved in.

My baby looked like that. He screamed, of course! And, he found his Mama,while looking frantically for her, as he screamed and called mamamama over and over again. Mama was standing and watching trying to hold back every instinct in her body not to knock the head off this lady and take Boy Blue in her arms kissing him all over his face.

The woman must have sensed my feelings and looked up at me and smiled. She was young and skinny as a person can be skinny. She has a nice face that makes you trust her. So, my instincts stayed right on the ready in case she made him scream that special, “I am about to be eaten”, scream. Then, I would push her skinny rear out of the way taking him in my protective arms. I wouldn’t care what the doc said!

Luckily, he had the I am uncomfortable and in some pain but more scared scream. I could handle that knowing that she was doing this for the good of my baby. And, like I said, she had a face that made me trust her. I know I couldn’t do her job and it is a miracle that she can live with herself after torturing poor sick babies. I know, I know. She is not really torturing the babies. What I am trying to say is that I am thankful there are people like her that can do these kind things for others. Really.

She will come again at around three today to torture my baby. I am dreading this. I can’t just go into another room and leave him as much as I am tempted to. I will sit and watch this woman press down on my babies chest over and over until he coughs or spits up the nasty stuff. Because I am his Mama. Poor fella is sleeping so still and peaceful without a clue that she just called and is on her way over.

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