We had a nasty cold, sans the rash around the same time up here. Actually, it was not very nasty-24 hours from start to finish-at least for those of us who do not have astma. For the asthmatics, Gorbulas and Fastolph, it was horrible. Fastolph has not had an attack like this is years and Gorbulas was almost hospitalised-again because his oxygen was at 92. Deo Gratias the doc was able to turn it around with a steroid shot. Deo Gratias again for good doctors.
Gorbulas has similar Daddy fondness right now as well. I did something pretty mean this morning. First of all, do not get me wrong, I adore my babies, but I am trying to wean Gorbulas. He is whiney from being two and short, he is whiney from being ill, he is whiney form being weaned. I feel for the kid, but he is also annoying. Since it is Saturday, I wanted to sleep in a few extra minutes. Gorbulas came up to bother me for Mommyjuice and Polo followed to see if was OK.
After Polo left he started to look to nurse and get all whiney, so I said “say Bye
Daddy,” to which Gorbulas started to get all panicy and teary eyed “noooo, Duh-ddeeee!” thinking Polo was off to work. He climbed down and ran to his father.
I heard my husband say from the hallway “You did that on purpose!”
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Oh, Pansy, I am on the same page today. Six-and-a-half months pregnant, with a two-year-old who has hives today (still trying to figure out what caused them — total mystery), and whom I had to emergency wean because I almost went into pre-term labour last week.
I feel for him — no momma last weekend (in hospital), no more ‘ba-ba’, itchy arms and legs. It must suck for him, but if I hear one more whine, I think I’m gonna go crazy. Grrrrr.
This is usually when I started praying to the Blessed Mother for patience.