I know you all like me better when I'm funny, but I don't have a drop of funny in me today.
The funny might be in there somewhere, but it's probably trapped in mucus, dying a slow and ugly death. Kind of like those bugs in amber. Hahaha gasp gasp.
Because here's why: My kid has been sick and not sleeping for a week. Now I'm sick.
Also, I hate my hair. And my shoes. In fact, I think I hate everything today.
Jordan slept all the way till 4ish am before waking up all coughing and congesty and unhappy. This is a dramatic improvement from the awake every several hours all night long that's been going on since Friday night.
However. It's still 4ish in the goddamn morning.
So at about 4:30 I did him the severe injustice of squirting saline in his nostrils and then sucking out the snot with that little blue bulb thing they give you in the hospital. Not to be confused with the squarch bottle. They're very different things.
Can you say Violated! and Enraged! 25 times fast and really really LOUD?
That was him at 4:30 am.
But then he was able to breathe and slept till 7:15 and that made things much better, except that I'm all snotty and congesty and tired and bitter.
Somehow he doesn't understand that it's going to make him feel better, even though I explain it to him. I'm all, "Look, you can breathe now!"
And he's all, "FUUUUCK YOOOOUUUU, NASAL VIOLATOR! WAAAAAAAAH!"
In other words, we're not having healthy dialogue.
Not that I'm happy to be sick, but the good thing about being all congested as an adult is that you're allowed to take decongestants and shit that make you feel better. Or at least allow you to sleep.
Except when someone is yelling for you from the other room. Not naming names, but it starts with J and ends with ordan.
Nick's sister, who is a nurse, said that when her year-old son got sick, her pediatrician prescribed these drops that were an antihistamine and cough suppressant and I don't know what-all so he could sleep at night. She said there were very few things you could safely give babies, and to ask for these.
You bet I did.
Our pediatrician didn't feel comfortable prescribing anything for such a young child. Just saline and humidifier and hanging out in a warm steamy bathroom.
And if this goes on for more than another week, to bring him back in.
I kind of wanted to stab her at 4 am. Fuck you and your warm steamy bathroom and no nose drops for my kid.
And I know this isn't the worst thing on the planet. But I'm fucking tired. And whiny.
I made Nick pinky swear that if this goes on another week, that he'll go in to the doctor's office and give them a stern talking-to and tell them We. Cannot. Live. Like. This. and give us some motherfucking nose drops. Bitchez.
That last sentence is the reason Nick needs to do it. Because he'll be poised and reasonable. Whereas I'd be all shrill and hysterical and maybe even insulting and belligerent.
Which doesn't tend to get you anywhere good. Not speaking from experience or anything.