One Rough Weekend...

So, the Saturday before last started with an unsuspecting lunch with Mrs. Teri and Mr. Justin, who, just for the record, as of Tuesday, October 5th, still have not had Baby G; Baby G was due September 30th! Anyways, Dad and Mr. Justin met us ladies after a round of golf, and lunch was a pretty good time, minus the meltdown because I didn't want to sit in the highchair. Mom knew something was up because of my unusually grumpy state and a warmer than normal heat radiating from me. Mr. Justin kindly distracted me by taking me over and letting me drive the arcade car; he even put actual money in it so that I could really compete. Had I known that I was getting duped this whole time, I would have demanded coins earlier. The four of us were supposed to cross paths once again that evening at a dinner party hosted by Dustin and Kat; unfortunately, after getting home, doing a little online research, and talking to Kat, who owns a daycare center, we all came to the same conclusion: I had Croup. Needless to say, plans were canceled, and I spent the remainder of my day coughing and eating fruit roll-ups, for that was all I would eat. Kat did give Mommy some great advice about bathroom steam and the freezer. She also told Mom to rotate between Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen every 3 hours to break the fever, but after talking to the pharmacist, Mom did not abide by Kat's advice, which didn't end so well.

We again canceled our plans to hit the pumpkin patch on Sunday so that I could rest. It was all Mommy, all day; Dad was home with us, but I clung to Mom all day as if my life depended on it. Dads are definitely the best playmates, but Moms are the best medicine. I spent most of the day coughing and opening my mouth really big so as to point to my very sore throat. During nap, Mom tried to get in a quick run, but I didn't stay asleep long, and she immediately rushed back to take care of me. Daddy does a good job too, but being sick is the rare instance when I become a Mommy's girl. I was able to get 2 bowls of ice cream down, and Mom got to catch the melting drips as they hit the couch. What!? Ice cream is a proven remedy for sore throats, just Google it. However, as the day went on, I became sicker and sicker until I could no longer talk or swallow because my throat hurt so badly. When I fell fast asleep on Mom's lap and wouldn't easily wake, Mom decided to call Scottish Rite, and after hearing that I was drooling a ton and wouldn't swallow, the on-call nurse recommended I get to the ER. I told you I was sick!

Mom threw a quick dinner together; Dad grabbed Pooh and some extra clothes, and we were off to Northside Forsyth. Thankfully, Dad was with us for this hospital visit. It was terrible! First, the nurse took my temperature in a place from which no one should ever get any information - at least, he felt badly about it and kept trying to make amends. With a temperature of 104.2, I was given another dose of Ibuprofen and sent back to my own room. The nurse gave Mom the same instructions Kat had imparted earlier in the weekend; we should have listened to the daycare owner and mother of two in the first place. We stayed in the hospital for about 3 hours, during which I slept most of the time on Mom's lap; I adamantly and very loudly refused to lay in the bed. The doctors gave me a breathing treatment and a round of steroids to open up my airways. The steroids were hidden in a cup of apple juice, so it was no problem, but the Acetaminophen before I left turned into a huge fight, which resulted in my being bribed with everything under the sun. That last nurse is NOT my friend! By the time we left around 10:30 p.m., I was feeling much better and was able to get some McDonald's bock-bock and fries into my system. This visit now makes 2 ER stints in 2 years of life; I am beginning to see a pattern forming.

That night, Mom slept with me in the guest room so that she could wake me up every 3 hours for a round of medicine. Let's just say that neither of us got a very good night's sleep. After the 3:30 a.m. dose, I insisted on having a 20-minute conversation about Opie before falling back asleep on Mom's chest. Dad came up about 6 to say goodbye - and wake us up, for which he is still in trouble - before leaving to go out of town for a few days. I had somehow turned myself totally around in the bed, and my feet were sleeping next to Mom, which totally confused Dad when he bent down to kiss my head in the dark and ended up with feet. That was one rough evening and night.

Throughout the weekend, Mom ran a bubble bath for me while running the shower to steam up the bathroom a couple times a day to help alleviate some of the breathing discomfort; the bubbles were also a welcome distraction. Whenever the bathroom mirror would fog over, I would insist that Mom "clean up" or "fix" the mirror; it just seemed dirty, which really bothered me. I am my mother's daughter for sure.

When Mom and I finally woke up on Monday morning, I was still feeling really yucky. I wouldn't let her put me down, which made preparing breakfast and brushing teeth somewhat complicated. Aunt Mal heard how terrible I felt on the phone and immediately headed up to help Mom get through the day since Dada was out of town. I wasn't very nice to Aunt Mal, - sorry, Mal, I didn't feel good - but Mom and I were still very happy to have her here. She hit up the grocery store to get some sick supplies and brought back 4 balloons, one of which was a huge, singing, "Happy Birthday" Elmo balloon. Mom has been tempted to pop it ever since, for I like to hit it and make it sing over and over and over... It has provided great "Happy Birthday" singing practice for my upcoming big day; however, I am convinced that it is Elmo's birthday and not almost my birthday. After about 3 hours of straight crying and my adamant refusal to take any medication, - I wasn't even fooled when it was added to juice or ice cream - Mom decided to call the doctor, and shortly thereafter, I was headed to get checked out. I did have a short reprieve from the hysterics right before we left for the doctor's office when I discovered my talents as a photographer. Over the course of the next 2 days, I took close to 200 pictures, a taste of which is displayed below. At first, I just got shot after shot of the couch, but once I got the hang of it, I was actually walking around, looking for items to capture in digital foreverness, and setting up shots. I got some good pictures of Aunt Mal, the table decor, my ice cream, Pooh, my toy basket, my balloons, my feet, as well as Mom's butt and a great picture of her in her bra. It's blackmail for later in life when she tries to show embarassing pictures of me. Taking pictures was the only time that I wasn't clinging to Mom and/or crying, so Mom just handed over the point and shoot and let me go wild. I have an eye for the aesthetic as I am sure you will find when you look at my work; you may want to get an autograph now before I hit Ansel Adams status.

Back to the doctor's, we had to wait an hour and a half to be seen; don't even ask, for they somehow lost us and kept covering up their mistake until the very end. However, during that hour and a half, I probably felt the best I had felt in days, and I pretty much made Mom look stupid for bringing me in. There are just so many distractions! I flirted with a little boy, whom I scared off when I tried to kiss him; acted shy in front of a high school boy; moved the kids' chairs all over the room; and watched part of a terrible fish movie. The grumpy, sick Olivia did reemerge when I finally got called back, and I proceeded to freak out for the entire 10 minutes I was with the doctor, who basically gave us no new information and couldn't even help Mom get any medicine into me. That was a waste of about 2 hours and $40, once again. When we got home, Mom and Mal teamed up and fought to get a small amount of Ibuprofen into my system before Aunt Mal made one more grocery store trip. While Mom made dinner, I passed out cold on the couch. When I awoke about an hour later, I asked to go to bed, and Mom decided that she wouldn't force me to eat or take any more medicine, so she carried me upstairs, and that was the end of me for the night. Thank you, Aunt Mal; Mom and I appreciate your help during the day more than you know! It was one rough Monday.

I do want to thank everyone for all of the concern and love that was sent through Facebook and calls to Mom. We got some really great advice from Mrs. Kat; our pharmacist, Mrs. Rebecca; Grandma Purnell; and several friends, as well as fellow moms on FB, so thank you guys so much. I am definitely loved, and I feel it.

Tuesday was a vast improvement. I was still a bit under the weather and whiny in the morning, so I decided to just relax with Mom; watch a little Shrek, which I find quite funny; lead my balloons around the house while telling them to "Follow me, balloons"; and take a few, or 50, more pictures. My fever had, thankfully, dissipated, and after nap, I seemed to be back to normal, except for the frog in my throat. Being sick really makes you appreciate feeling normal so much more, and I have been so loving towards Mom ever since. On Tuesday, the debate for Mom and Dad began - to cancel their trip to Acapulco or to not cancel the trip to Acapulco; that is the question. Stay tuned to find out the answer.

I beat Croup, and I never want it back!