What an insane past week and a half (give or take a day or two). If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the course of a week and a half it’s that if Grayson is doing to do something, he’s going to do it the extreme.
I’ve always believed this, to an extent. I mean, instead of rolling over, he rolls across the room. Instead of taking naps, he sleeps for roughly 9 hours a night. And instead of getting a cold, he decides he’s going in with pneumonia for the first time he’s sick. Ok, maybe not so drastic. I mean, he had slight pneumonia, like that’s better.
The Thursday before the Super Bowl, we knew the little guy was getting sick. But, we were hoping it would pass. Alright, I’ll be honest with you guys. Since we’ve moved back to Texas, we’ve yet to find Gray a pediatrician. I know. Terrible parents. I KNOW! But, what had happened was, there was an issue with Dibs health care, and it didn’t transfer right, this that and that and the other. So, we were trying to hold off till Monday on going to a doctor. Poor little guy wouldn’t sleep in his bed, and the only way he’d sleep was if he were on one of us. This meant that I was on the couch holding him trying to sleep, and then Dibs would rotate. That’s teamwork.
Then comes Super Bowl Sunday at about a half hour before kickoff. Let me interject briefly. I’ve been pissed on, pooped on and spit up on. Well, friends, I’ve officially been vomited on. As I’m trying to calm him down, he just let’s it go all over me. We immediately go to the ER (no, we didn’t overreact. It was a smart move. No… I haven’t seen the bill yet. Why?).
The ER on Super Bowl Sunday is funny. If you want to see some anxious dads, that’s the place to do it. Not because of their kids or anything, but because they’re missing the game. Especially when they’re playing Nanny McPhee on the TV. This is where being a resourceful dad comes in handy, guys. The night before, I anticipated all of this, so I DVRed all of Super Bowl Sunday. This is key, men: Always think two steps ahead.
The doctor checks Gray out, confirms that he had a cold, gives us some meds and sends us on our way. We return home around the 4th quarter. Both him and I fall asleep after the game with him on me. The bad news is that I was flying out to LA for work the next morning. Reason #238 Dibs is the greatest mom ever.
Granted, at this time we thought he was in an upswing. Dibs finds a pediatrician, takes Gray to her and the news wasn’t what we hoped. Instead of an upswing, Gray had the dreaded pneumonia. Again, a slight case of pneumonia, but still. I was well prepared to fly home, but Dibs assured me that there was no need. (Reason #239 she’s the greatest mom ever.) I returned back to Dallas on Friday, back to the Pediatrician. Grayson is wheezing a bit, so we need to start him on breathing treatments. If you don’t know what that means, think about a oxygen mask being put to your face (in the shape of a purple dinosaur), except instead of oxygen, we’re giving him a steroid and another medicine combined.
You know what babies hate? Breathing treatments. The nurse says to us, “It’s OK if they cry. They inhale more that way.” Oh, well, that’s good. I guess. We do the treatments every 4 hours through the weekend, pump him full of antibiotics and try to get him as much sleep and milk as possible.
It was a long, intense battle. By Sunday night he seemed to be bouncing back again (what did we know). By Monday night he was obviously feeling better. Lastly, by Tuesday night, he was much better. By that I mean, he made up for all the lost time of being sick. He laughed all night, rolled under the couch and wouldn’t come out (that’s new) and was overly happy all night.
Good to have him back… now if I could only figure how to make sure he never gets sick again.