Oh What A Night....


Actually, great night started in the afternoon when we took the kids to the vet (well, okay, pediatrician, but I think vet sounds better). Sage had her six month well check and a million shots to get. During the exam I got busted when the doctor asked Roan, “that looks like a healthy snack, what is it?” I told him it was sugar cereal (Reeses puffs). He made a face and said “Well, everything in moderation.” Ack, why didn’t I bring her usual snack of raw broccoli and wheat germ? Their doctor wanted both of them to get the flu shot. (Sorry Roan). So we trucked it on down to the (insert sinister music) SHOT ROOM.

Roan was really excited to go to the shot room. The last few times she’s been, she wasn’t the one getting shots. They have a big carpeted room with some wooden structures to climb on and often (because getting shots takes forever) other kids running around waiting for their turn to get stuck. So when we go to the doctor, Roan always asks to go to the shot room.

We get called back and Roan has to get her shot first. The shot lady kept calling her Ro-Ann and asked if Sage was pronounced Saw-jay (as if it were Sage with the little squiggle above the E). Roan got her shot and started crying and calmed down a little when she got to pick out a sticker. She picked the danged Barbie one, too. Yuck. I would’ve been wise to take her out of the room then, before her sister got her 3 or 4 sticks, but I’m not wise and stayed.

Roan watched her sister get jabbed with needles and then the both started crying. The only difference was, after they stopped poking her, the baby stopped crying and Roan continued to scream for about ten minutes. We went to the pharmacy and bought her some chewable ibuprofen (grape flavor, yum). I had to take her back out because she kept SCREAMING.

We get home and Roan kept saying her leg hurt (they gave her the shot in her right thigh). Davey would ask what leg and she kept saying the wrong one. Then she’d get confused and we laughed at her (it was really cute). Well, she got pretty mad because “people shouldn’t laugh at kids” and “I don’t like when Daddy laughs at me.” All of which almost made me laugh again (poor Roan) so apologies and hugs were given and she stopped complaining about her leg.

The kids got tired early, so we started the bedtime procedure around 8 pm or so. All seemed to be going ok, we were trying to finish some zombie missions on World of Warcraft when the baby woke up. It was only 9 or so....

Well, we got Sage to go back to sleep around 11:45 after lots of feeding and rocking then giving up then more feeding and rocking. The dang baby still woke up when I put her back in her crib for the last time. I guess she finally just gave up trying to stay awake, because she didn’t start screaming again and eventually fell asleep.

I can’t remember what time Roan first woke up screaming, maybe 3:30, and then 4:30 and 5:30. She kept having this reoccurring dream about her hands being dirty (I’m not joking). She wanted to wash her hands.

At the 4:30 awakening, I noticed she was sweaty. I thought it was from wearing the fuzzy, footy pajamas she had on. She wouldn’t let me trade them for less warm pj’s. So I just told her to keep her blanket off of her some and I got her some milk. When she has bad dreams, she always asks for milk.
At 5:30 she starts screaming again. This time I think I’m going to start crying. I go in and she keeps saying her hands are dirty. I tell her it’s just a dream. I start to tuck her in and noticed some white curdled glob with sticky red glops in it on her bed and pillow. Next words, “Davey, I need some help in here.”

All of this time Roan is screaming. (Oh, the red glops were leftover from her gummy vitamins). I change her pj’s and try to get her to calm down (deep breaths seem to work) while Davey gets vomit duty. A good thing he did it, because I almost hurled when I saw it. I have a milk/mayo/ cottage cheese/cream cheese (I could go on) phobia.

We decide to take her temperature. I have one of those nifty ear thermometers, which sometimes aren’t accurate. But, she consistently registered 101.7 and 101.8. Mine was a chilly 97.7. She was already feeling better since she calmed down, but we gave her more ibuprofen for the fever.

By this time it’s about 6 and Sage is wide awake. So I feed her. Meanwhile Roan wants someone to sleep in her bed and is mad that “daddy” has to get ready to go to work. I told her someone would come back in for her, thinking (hoping?) that she would fall back to sleep.

I brought the baby back to the crib and Roan was still awake waiting for someone to sleep with her (that’s what she told me). So I told her she could sleep in my room, but she had to go to sleep..blah blah blah.

Finally, after many back rubs and another screaming fit when Davey left for work, we both fell back to sleep around 7:30. When Roan woke up, she rolled over and said “Hey, I’m not sick anymore.” I felt her head and she didn’t feel feverish.

That reminds me...I have to take the barfed upon cow-cow out of the washer.