The week that was...
I went to Melbourne for Tuesday and Wednesday, got screwed around by clients and achieved very little. When I left, Elissa had been croupy over night. She went off to day care and was fine. She was ok while I was away, but Thursday the carer rang and asked us to pick her up. She had a low grade fever and was lethargic. So I brought her home and she slept for 4 hours before I had to wake her up to take Ben to my sister's for a sleep over, followed by a day in the Blue Mountains with my mother.
So that night she spiked a fever of 39.5 deg C (103 deg F for the metrically impaired), which only dropped to 38.5 (101) after both Panadol and Nurofen. So I kept her in my bed so that I wouldn't pass out completely and fail to check on her. I also had a fan blowing which helped to keep her cool. By 5am she was cold and I finally put her back in her bed and enjoyed a luxurious 2 hours' sleep.
This glorious slumber was interrupted by a phone call from my mother, who was letting me know that she had taken Ben to the hospital at 5am because he had a touch of croup and a fever, and they possessed absolutely no children's drugs. He soldiered on and went to the mountains, walked 4.8km and caught the train home for 2 hours with Ginny and Solomon. By which time the fever had returned, and he came home, ate and went immediately to bed.
Elissa is still getting random fevers, has a spotty rash and is much crankier than usual. Sheesh. I guess that whole four weeks of all round wellness has spoilt me.
So to top off my evening, Charlie, the only well child, dropped his bowl and broke it, which would have been ok, only it was still half full of duck soup. So I have vacuumed, and now I am listening to the dulcet tones of the robot mop getting rid of the stickies...
Whinge mode -off-.
Update: Whinge mode -on-. So before I sat down to watch Iron Chef with a glass of bubbly and some strawberries, I thought I'd do a quick kid check. Elissa was in need of a drink (very high maintenance when she's sick, that girl) and Charlie needed a nappy change (his ability to wait until he gets his nappy on is nothing short of astounding) and when I came back downstairs I found that Bailey had thrown up his dinner and Charlie's spilled duck soup all over the carpet. Thank the gods for Enjo and live pause. Whinge mode -off-. So now I will enjoy my bubbly, and Iron Chef reruns followed by Rockwiz, which may not be everyone's idea of a rockin' Saturday night, but it'll do me.