I was feeling pretty good yesterday, which was surely my first mistake. Sure, the pollen count is SO HIGH (how high is it?) that no one can breathe, but whatever. Details.
Yesterday evening Chickadee commenced falling into giant chunks of woe and sickness, and the FANFUCKINGTABULOUS thing about the combination of 1) chronic illness and 2) TEH DRAMAAAAHZ is that it can be very difficult to suss out what is a real crisis and what is merely a teenage crisis. It took the threat of a trip to the ER and about an hour on the phone with various doctors to determine a course of action and decide she was okay for some watching and waiting, and eventually she was better and Otto and I were left to do some late-night adrenaline management (“I’m just going to CLEAN ALL THE THINGS before bed!”) once she was finally asleep.
We went to bed at about 12:30. At 2:00, one of our smoke detectors started beeping. Not a fire, thankfully, but even low batteries kind of suck when you’ve only been asleep for an hour. At 3:15, Monkey—the polar opposite of Chickie when it comes to illness—materialized at the side of the bed to say that he couldn’t sleep. He was directed to go back upstairs and lie down, and after a minute my mama-senses started to tingle and I went up to investigate further. Yep, burning up with fever. But “no, I feel fine, I just can’t sleep.”
Is it 2013 yet?