Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Trials and Tribulations... not really

Being sick stinks. I'd say ask my kids and they'll tell you, but they don't realize that they are and will attack you if you try to tell them so.

They've been ramping up being sick with some virus over the last couple days. Bubby started it off with some coughing a couple days ago. It was after some great fun with cousins, so we thought it was just from exertion. But it's just gotten worse. And the fevers started yesterday, with Popo joining in the fun.

So we went to the doctor today and she said it's a virus that we'll just have to stick out with whatever relief Tylenol will provide.

I wouldn't mind them feeling yucky so much if they'd be needy or cuddly or something. Instead they get extraordinarily high-pitched and moody. Bubby in particular. You know it's coming when he doesn't answer you when you ask him a question or to do something. At this point he's resetting into psycho mode. Then the chalkboard voice squeaks: "Bubby no go upstairs." Parent: "Okay." Bubby: "Bubby go upstairs!" Parent: "Okay." Bubby: "No, Bubby NO GO UPSTAIRS!" The tears are streaming by now.

If you give up and walk away, he stalks you throughout the house, screeching whichever his last response was. If you decide to fight it out, he turns red and screams like a banshee. He can't hear you if you try to reason with him or comfort him about not feeling well. And don't you dare try to hold him or caress him to calm him down.

And this is the mild version. It kicks into high gear at bedtime. If we're lucky, he gets through storytime, songtime, and prayers before he remembers his agenda. If we're not, he squeals through the book that he doesn't want to read that one. Then he shakes his head in protest through each song, refusing to sing along, followed by begging to sing it the very second the last word is sung. Next is refusal to pray until Daddy's done. Now we hear about what songs he wants to sing by himself, but refuses to when you give him the green light. Next is denial of hugs or kisses, until you close the door and the screaming for hugs and kisses begins. Finally, the wild card. You never know what he'll come up with to cry about through the door, for around half an hour.

I feel horrible, but sometimes the only way to break him out of these episodes is to be harsh and threaten him. Then he just cries a low moan until he falls asleep or gets distracted. Usually, Popo is a patient bystander to all this. Occasionally he'll pitch in with some confusion as to what he wants as well, but generally he's a sweet quiet boy. He seems to understand that Mommy and Daddy need some help with the situation so he stays out of the way. I try to quietly give him some love and thank him for being extra sweet on these occasions, so he doesn't get any crazy ideas of how parental attention works.

I love my boys so much. I really do. They are usually such sweet, funny boys. God will show us how to help them manage their discomfort and get us through this. They won't be too scarred by the learning process, right?

No comments:

Post a Comment