Ringing in my 30's

My 30th birthday began like most.  I putzed around with Brady, did a Body Pump class at the gym, ate lunch at home followed by a nap for Brady, and I thought we'd round out the excitement with a walk to the park.  As I was putting on Brady's shoes, there was a knock on my door. Perhaps someone sent me a package?  Indeed, a package had arrived...in the form of my friend Erin, who flew in from Dallas!  She and my sneaky husband had conspired to surprise me, which they certainly did.  Eric is usually not the greatest at keeping secrets, so I was impressed with his sneakiness.  And he sent us to a couples massage at the Umstead Spa, so extra points for him.

We had a great visit, although visiting someone with kids, especially someone with a sick, might not be the dream vacation.  Brady had a 102 fever on Friday coupled with a hacking cough.  The fever passed pretty quickly but he was very congested so he (nor I) slept very well.  On Friday around 11pm he woke up (again) and I went up to rock him and give him some medicine so he'd sleep better.   I have him the cherry medicine out of a hard syringe (ok, I think syringes have needles attached to them, which this didn't have, but I don't know what else to call it and it works better for my story).  Anyway, he sucked down the 3.75 ml of PediCare and even after it was sucked dry, he would not give up the syringe (tube?).  It gave my sick baby comfort, so I let him hang on to it.  As I rocked him and he started dozing, the syringe took the place of his thumb as the standard pacifier.  Whenever I would try to take it away, he would flip out.  He started breathing heavily, the syringe slipped out of his mouth, both indicating sleep, but when I tried to pry the syringe out of his hands, he snapped out of his peaceful state.  So I let the druggie have it back.

I was afraid we  might be in need of a very early intervention.

I didn't manage to pry the drugs away prior to putting Brady back in the crib and we're going to put some extra strong locks on our medicine cabinet.

And speaking of real needles, Brady had a tough Monday to even out his tough Friday.  Among other unfortunate procedures, he had to get his blood drawn at the allergist.  It was confirmed that we have "that" kid, the one with the peanut allergy.  And an egg allergy on top of that.  So egg and peanut butter sandwiches are out.  We are crossing our fingers that he will grow out of both.

A rough week for Brady, and fitting, I suppose, since his mom did turn 30!

 

We drug Brady to the Pumpkin Farm Friday morning.  Like any bad mom, it was a while before I realized he was sick.

 

His shirt was smiling.  That was about it.



Thumb in mouth, finger twirling his hair.  This was a good indication that it was time to go.

Thanks for visiting, Erin!  Brady was fired up too.  You'll have to take my word on that.