I’m asleep. And then I hear the telltale “tap tap tap” that only means one thing. The little one is up sick again. The knocking is quickly followed by the door bursting open, “Maaaaaamaaaaa!” I am instantly ripped from my unconsciousness into a confused, chaotic haze. “What?! What is it??? Did you puke??!” is always my first question. I guess I want to know right away how bad I’m in for it. Thankfully, as unfun as this flu has been, it has not involved puke.
I spring out of bed, still not sure what’s happening, but I’m up and immediately shoo her out of the room and close the door quietly behind me. I check her temp, see that it’s up, again. So, I give her a dose of ibuprofen, which I know by heart and then tuck her back into bed. The first couple nights involved snuggling with her for a while to get her back to sleep. The last couple nights, she has eased back to sleep relatively easily. I give her a kiss and say a little prayer that I will not see her again before morning.
I creep quietly back into my room and ease into my bed. My husband stirs but doesn’t wake up.
I’m asleep. I’m asleep. I’m asleep. I hear nothing. I hear nothing. I hear nothing. Wait, why is my wife whacking me?? “Huh??!! What??!! Why are you waking me up??” She says, “Can you please take this one?”
I stumble out of bed as my daughter continues to cry loudly that she doesn’t feel well. I tell her to come here, closer to the bed….where my wife is trying to sleep. Since it’s about time to wake up for work, I decide that before I tend to whatever my daughter needs, I should start looking for clothes to wear for the day. As I dig through my laundry, I only half pay attention when my daughter loudly whines something incoherently. “Whaaaat?” I ask loudly back. She repeats herself and adds in more crying. I try again, “What did you say? You feel unbalanced? What does that mean?” I continue to ask more questions, loudly. On the floor. In front of the bed…where my wife is trying to sleep. My daughter continues to cry and try to convey her message.
Suddenly, my wife snaps angrily from the bed, “Can you please get her out of here??!!” No idea where that came from.
I take a minute to grab my clothes and then shoo my unhappy daughter out of the room. Making sure to close the door quite forcefully for good measure. I take her temperature and see she has a fever. I have no idea if she has been up with my wife earlier in the night because I never hear anything. I also have no idea how much ibuprofen to give her despite asking my wife multiple times before. There’s definitely no way that the pediatrician’s website has quick access to that information. Doesn’t matter anyway because I have no idea who her pediatrician is or what that website might be. So to my wife it is.
I burst into my room and yell from the door, “Can she have this? And how much does she get?” I get a very short and rude “10.” How am I supposed to know what that means? 10 cups? 10 ounces? 10 tablespoons? So of course, I need to clarify with my semi sleeping wife.
She seems angry. I’m not sure why.