Murray is sick. I hate it when he's sick.
He developed a fever late yesterday afternoon, and complained of a sore throat and a headache. As soon as I heard, I rushed to the local pharmacy and purchased every little thing I could think of to make him feel better. Acetaminophen, orange juice, chicken noodle soup, a new thermometer, etc.
After he spit out half of the dose of medicine I gave him, I put a cold washcloth on his head and put him on DH's lap. I had him sip soup from a mug, encouraged fluids, and gave him a tepid bath. Just call us the Spock's.
At 7:30 p.m. or so, he suddenly perked up and decided it was time to run around the house. Craig and I attempted to settle him down, but soon gave up when he showed no signs of feeling ill - it had to be the acetaminophen.
Murray slept with me, so Craig got the boot to the couch (he insisted he would sleep better, I didn't make him, I swear). Other mommies know that when your child is ill, even if he/she is sleeping soundly, you wake up every fifteen minutes or so to check foreheads for fever and signs of respiratory complications. I am one of them. I'm exhausted.
This morning when Murman woke up, he demanded breakfast and PBS Kids, just like any other morning. I felt some relief, thinking that I was a genius mom/nurse. Not so much.
He's not complaining of aches and pains anymore, but he's been extremely lethargic and doesn't have have an appetite (he only ate 2 french toasts sticks at breakfast instead of the normal four). This, from a kid who acts like the Energizer Bunny, eats 8 meals a day, and asks for a snack five minutes after he's put his dinner plate in the sink.
So, Murman and I spent the day taking it easy. I've watched 'Toy Story 3' twice, 'How to Train Your Dragon' once, and more PBS Kids then I can handle. I missed my trashy daytime t.v. and ignored the laundry. We snuggled on the couch and ate chicken noodle soup and drank copious amounts of ice water and orange juice.
Sick days aren't so bad after all.