It has been a week. Not only was I too busy/stressed/preoccupied to followup on last week's goals, but I didn't even set official goals for this week OR do a weekend wrapup post.
Long and short: Munch's temp started to elevate on Sunday night and by Monday morning, it was a full-blown 102 fever. :-( He was so hot. I took him to the doctor, ignoring the "wait 5 days rule" because we are supposed to go away on Friday, and because he's been coughing and sniffling for a freaking month.
It appears he has a sinus infection like he did in April. It's like the cold lingers long enough to morph into something more. His fever was gone yesterday, but boy was it rough for a while. I was off work until about 1:30 on Monday, and when I left him with my MIL so I could get a little work done, he cried so hard and clung to my neck so desperately, that I sobbed my way out the door and cried all the way home. It was one of the worst times I've ever left him. It was heart-wrenching and devestating because I knew so clearly that all he wanted was ME to comfort him and I felt like I was abandoning him. It was terrible. I felt the dualing roles of mother and worker acutely.
Tuesday was better, still feverish, but playing, so he wasn't just wanting me to hold him. Tuesday night, however, was awful. For one thing, he took a nap later in the day than usual and so he wasn't tired until later. We tried at 9:30 and it was clearly not happening, so we gave it until 11 (before which he just played). He fell asleep, but within 5 minutes coughed himself awake and from then on it was screaming/writhing/crying/wanting to play/but wanting to sleep/horror until 1:30, when he finally fell fitfully to sleep after I sang "What Child Is This?" for 40 straight minutes.
We kept him home one more day yesterday, and he was tired and cranky, but by evening seemed to be turning the corner. I haven't heard anything from day care today, so I assume that means he's done well today. He hardly ate anything all week, but he did keep drinking lots of milk and water, so that's good.
Now we just have 7 more freaking days of the antibiotic, which entails a wrestling match, projectile spitting, coughing and choking, and much crying all around. I'll let you puzzle out who does what.