Croup and Ear Infections and Barfing, Oh My!

Noah likes to live life LARGE. He won't settle for a simple sniffle. He won't submit to a simple cold. If he's going to get sick, he's going ALL OUT.
On Friday night, he was running around, giggling, laughing, getting into trouble. He was the usual naughty Noah that we love so much. 

Other than a bit of a runny nose, he seemed in good health when he finally surrendered to sleep on Friday evening. By Saturday morning, though, hell had arrived. And hell, in our house, goes by the name of croup.

We hate croup. Any parent who's watched their child bark and cough and struggle for air understands. It's the worst feeling on earth. We trucked him off to the doctor first thing Saturday morning and were temporarily reassured. So far he had no fever, nothing in his lungs, and the hope was he'd kick the virus in a day or two.

Noah had other plans, of course, as did the croup. By Saturday afternoon the fever arrived. And the vomit-a-thon began. Noah's always been a puker, and anytime he catches a cough he gets congested. He chokes, and proceeds to barf up everything he's eaten in the past six hours.

It's lovely, really. We've bought shares in Tide laundry detergent. Noah gets towels for his birthday. Our hot water bill will be $600,000 next month. We used our carpet cleaner sixteen times this weekend.

Sunday was a write-off. It's a blur of Tylenol, Tide, Disney movies, Chicken Soup, and Chicken Soup version 2.0 (the not-so-fun kind that you have to scrub out of carpet... the kind that makes you never want to eat again).

Monday was fun, too. I had a doctor's appointment in the morning, and Noah came along. He decided to barf all over himself in the waiting room. Thank God I never leave home without a complete change of clothes for Noah, 4000 baby wipes, and my sense of humour. Noah wasn't amused, however, when the nurse provided us with an empty Purdy's chocolate bag to transport his dirty clothes in. 

Noah's getting good at recognizing corporate logos, and the bag had a faint scent of chocolate. This reduced him to tears when he realized he was NOT getting candy as a treat for tossing his cookies. 

Poor Noah.

By afternoon we were sitting in his pediatrician's office. He reacted with absolute terror to the otoscope. He howled through the exam. Tears, kicks and punches were peppered with screeches of "No thank you! No touch mine ears! No thanks!"

Such a polite boy. Sure enough, he had a double ear infection. Hip hip hurray, we were off to the pharmacy.

Noah passed out in the car, of course. I wrestled him out of his car seat. Usually this wakes him up instantly. Did it wake him this time? Nope, still asleep.

I tossed him onto my left shoulder as gently as I could (given that he was 34 pounds of sleeping toddler). Did this wake him? Nope, still asleep.

I staggered into the drug store, made my way to the pharmacy, and plunked down in the chair in front of the pharmacist. I glanced at the boy hanging off my shoulder. "Are you awake yet?" Nope, still asleep. 

"I'll put a rush on your order," the pharmacist smiled. Thank God. Sound-asleep-Noah and I waddled around the store, filling our basket with life's essentials: children's gravol, laundry detergent, two pounds of toblerone, chicken soup.

They paged us on the intercom and we hurried over to pick up his medicine. The pharmacist laughed this time. "He's STILL asleep! What a big boy you are taking a nap on your poor mother."

Um, thanks. But did he wake up then? Nope, still asleep. He waited until I'd paid for all the groceries, carried them out to the car, and wrestled him back into his car seat.

When I was fastening the last buckle Noah's eyes shot open and he looked at me plainly and said: "Hi Mommy. Had a nice nap. (cough cough cough) NO GO TO DOCTOR. Wanna chocolate chip pease. (cough cough cough). I gotta cough. Gonna choke and barf on mine car seat." 

How lovely. Get better soon, little son!