The common-cold. Though I’m not sure what’s so common about it. You might argue that everyone gets it- but I argue right back that everyone gets a different KIND of it. So that’s not so “common” now is it?
There’s the head cold- where there’s so much booger pressure on your brain you feel slightly delusional. The throat-cold- where you just want to stab everyone with a broken mirror because it feels like shards of glass any time you try to swallow even a drop of spit. The nose cold- where your nostrils turn into booger faucets that you just can’t turn off and you swear you simply can’t have another OUNCE of booger in you when another pound comes flying out of your face; post-nasal drip cold- the silent bitch.
And who could forget the daunting power of the man-cold? Scoff all you like- but just like men joke about the hellish nature of a woman PMSing, we ladies joke about the childish whininess of the man-cold. Both stereotypes may not be true for everyone- but there’s a reason they exist!
Holden has a severe case of the man-cold. And the plague. The combination has been absolute hell for us all. Of course I feel awful that he feels awful- but honestly, if I didn’t laugh at how absolutely ridiculous he’s acting- I would cry. And I really don’t like to cry. I have a really ugly cry face.
If you looked up “hot mess” in the dictionary- if you still had a dictionary… or a new one that contained this only slightly new-ish term- there would be his picture. Disheveled rat’s nest on his head. Red droopy sad brown eyes. Two bright green booger trails streaming down his face- which have bothered his skin so much that he has a lovely (read: barf worthy) rash from his nose to his chin. Slight delirium. Now, before anyone goes and gets all Web MD on me- yes, he has been to see a doctor- he’s getting better. Calm the tits!
He will be okay. I might go insane first, but he will be okay.
Why insane, you may or may not be asking? It’s not just the 12 pounds of boogers I’m cleaning up per day, or the fact that in their love/hate relationship all week the boys have been leaning heavily to the hate side. All of that I can handle. It’s the mouth. THE MOUTH! The child-man-cold mouth.
The kid already says weird shit every day all day. but when you combine that with a fever and a severe plague-ish boogery man-cold? You are bound to hear some of the weirdest shit you’ve ever heard. Or the whiniest. You can probably count on both.
I have written some of these down as the days have slowly droned on- and I will now share them with you- for if I don’t get them out of my head I fear they will make me just as crazy as he is right now. That would not be good.
When we were given the antibiotics for whatever this junk Holden has is, we were told he had two choices. Either he could choose a capsule that we’d have to open and mix into his food that would taste awful, or we’d have to give him 4 teaspoons twice a day of a liquid that would taste awful. What FUN choices, right?? I let Holden make that call- and he decided on the liquid. Probably because the doctor told him he could chase it with chocolate fucking syrup. What kid is gonna say no to that?
It took an hour of fighting with the idiots at the pharmacy to get it- but it was right after dinner that night when he had his first dose. I don’t know what I was doing, but I clearly wasn’t paying attention because Thomas had asked him what it tasted like and Holden responded:
“Lemons and banana fart”
Not even a minute later, I perked up and asked him the same damn question (oops) to which he replied:
“Fruit punch and diapers!”
I swear to all that is holy I had better not catch his nasty fucking plague because I don’t want to taste ANY of that. Ever. Banana fart? I can’t even…
The next dose wasn’t quite as cheerful or easy. Holden is like any other person in that when he is sick, he feels the absolute worst in the evenings right before bed, and right after waking up. I tried to get his morning dose out of the way quickly. At about 7:30 in the morning. I guess his jaw doesn’t work that early because every time I tried to help him pour that foul shit into his mouth, some of it would come pouring back out. Frustrating, right? I mean, the shit has to be shaken every time and we only have so much and there are so many doses- and then he whines
“I’m trying, but it’s just too hard to keep it in!”
I have never had to try so hard to hold back a “that’s what she said” response.
He then slipped into a pre-nap slump. He’s over 5 now, so he thinks he’s too good for naps on any normal day- but sick kids gotta sleep whether they like it or not. Sick kids also sometimes don’t like to eat. Unless it’s fruit gummies- they’ll eat the shit out of some fruit gummies. Peanut butter and jellies? Yeah, notsomuch. Holden’s excuse?
“My arms are just too tired.”
Well, then allow ME!
And the slump quickly turned into I’m-so-sick-and-tired-I’m-completely-delusional. Which is always amusing. Or weird. I’m going with weird.
Randomly as I’m trying to get the kids to hurry their shit up so I can put them both down for naps and have some PEACE where they aren’t shrieking at each other or pinching or slapping or tattling- Holden looks over to me with these wide, glazed over eyes and pops out with creepy little voice
“My favorite color is every single color in the entire world except white!”
I was pretty damn sure that the next thing he said to me would be that he could see dead people.
Alas- it was worse!
During snack time, I reminded him that he needed to eat all of what I gave him (he’s hardly eaten anything this week) to which he replied
“Mommy, you are SUCH a Dr-a-ma Queen!”
Yeah he MUST be fucking delusional to think he can get away with that kinda mouth!
Needless to say (but I’m saying it anyway)- I cannot wait for this child to get better and go back to school. Y’know… ’cause being sick is so sad… and….missing school is bad… yeah- that’s it!
Oh, and just to really put a cap on this long horrible week?
“But I’m allergic to hot dog juice!”
If you like to be constantly criticized over your peanut butter to jelly ratio on sandwiches, being a parent is definitely for you.
It's called "Mom Tax" and it applies to ALL SWEETS OBTAINED BY CHILDREN pic.twitter.com/VExGwIOdBn
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