Family Bleh

Just after my last post I came down with a raging sinus infection. Just as I got in to the doctor and got myself squared away for some casual recouperation, Gaz got sick. Not just a little sniffle, there were 104-degree temperatures and hallucinations at one point.

So there was an ER visit (we like the nearby hospital) and a visit to our normal doctor's office, and many lab tests and phone calls later we find out that Gaz has a urinary tract infection and we get her her own prescription for a bit of amoxicillin. So much for that casual recouperation.

Since Wednesday we've had fevers, chills, vomiting, and tantrums over taking any sort of oral medication. Even the easy to chew stuff that tastes like Smarties. I've gotten little sleep, but at least my medicine has taken care of my infection just as well as it's working on hers. She's already looking a lot better (though still vomiting every now and again) and acting more like herself. We're back to diapers for the moment because she's having a hard time being awake/energetic enough to get to the bathroom in time for anything, but I know she would like nothing more than to get back to normal.

And we will, but it's probably going to take a little while yet.

welcome to my nightmare

Gaz was following me around the apartment this morning, as she usually does. I went to set something down in the kitchen, but when I turned around she wasn't there. I thought she was playing in her bedroom, but no, she wasn't there. I called for her and the reply came from down the hall . . .

She was standing on the bathroom vanity, having climbed up there with nothing more than her death-defying nerves and a boost from the toilet. Fortunately I contained my shock well enough that I didn't startle her into a fall.

She's also just figured out how to use her pretty pink Ikea stool to open the top drawer on the entertainment center (the one where we keep her crayons and makers).

Now we are well beyond the stage where we can keep her from doing scary and/or destructive things by simply making them unavailable. Now we have to hope that she listens to the things we tell her. This has worked pretty well so far for the knife drawer, but that doesn't have anything fun in it. I don't know how we're going to deal with the markers yet.

I'm never going to sleep again. Not until she's forty.