We’ve been stuck in the house since Tuesday morning because poor Zachary’s caught his first illness. Poor little guy’s been meandering through the 101-103 temperatures for the last 24 hours, not responding too well to acetaminophen dosage or cool baths. He’s a little listless and doesn’t want to nurse very much, which makes me feel particularly helpless. Zachary is fussy and listless because of his fever, Milo is fussy and restless from being trapped in the house with us.
I brought Z to the doctor’s office on Tuesday. Despite being woken up mid-nap for this, Milo was in pretty good spirits. He scattered some raisins around the patient room, then stood on a chair and serenaded the good doctor with both parts of Do Re Mi while she was trying to examine Zachary. She asked us to monitor his temperature and watch for any other cold-like/flu-like symptoms, then check back in with the office on Wed afternoon. Milo made sure to applaud himself wildly and shouted “good job!” when he finished singing. The doctor looked at me sympathetically.
After a pretty bad night of little sleep and little nursing (but a little puke, so yay), we were up bright and early Wednesday morning. Zachary continued to feel poorly, and his fever still hovered around 101 despite the tylenol dosages. The doctor suggested bringing him back in to make sure there was no need to test for a bacterial infection. Sigh. I got our stuff together, woke Milo up from his nap (always fun times), and schlepped the gang back on the subway again. Milo, pleased to be on the subway and probably just thrilled to be out of the house at this point, behaved himself beautifully on the way there.
Once we exited the elevator and entered the waiting room, something clicked in Milo. Unlike Tuesday afternoon, the waiting room on Wednesday was full of children sitting around in various states of sniffles and unhappiness. He took one look around and burst into tears. “SUBWAY! GO SUBWAY,” he wailed. I tried to explain that Zacky was sick, that we needed to wait for the doctor. “Zacky go doctor, Milo go subway,” he sobbed, trying to push the stroller back into the hallway. It’s this kind of illogical toddler behavior that always pushes me to the fucking edge, you know? Like, why didn’t he cry when we left the subway or along any part of the ten minute walk to the office? Why wait til we’re inside the doctor’s office? I calmed him down by bribing him with squeezies and a half-empty box of raisins.
After he’d stopped sobbing and flailing around on the floor, he sat on a chair and looked around. “I see boys and girls!” he announced in his singsong voice. Yes, I said, there are lots of children here, let’s keep our voices down so we don’t bother everyone. “I sing,” Milo told me. No, please don’t sing right now, let’s save it for when we’re outside. “Milo singin’” was his determined response. I sighed. Milo gave them the full set list (perhaps out of some toddler noblesse oblige—my fellow toddlers, you are sick but I am well, let my melodious voice heal thee), treating the waiting room to a medley of Chim Chiminee, Edelweiss, Tomorrow, Coal Miner’s Daughter and, you guessed it, Do Re Mi. I’ve been trying to get him to understand that there’s a time and place for singing, but he hasn’t quite gotten the message yet. Sorry, Brooklyn.
We’re keeping an eye on Z, but I think he’ll be fine. If he doesn’t improve by Friday, we’ll have to take him to the ER to get same-day blood work done to rule out a UTI, but I noticed he was in slightly better spirits last night. Milo was in bed by 7:30, and I was hoping to get Z off early too. Sensing this, Zachary decided to stay up and keep me company til 11pm. Then he woke up around 5am to party in the big bed with me. What a lucky mother I am. Sigh.