I'm in.

A tiny pink ogre

Have. Mercy.

You know what's more demanding than a toddler? A sick toddler.

You know what cranks that demanding dial up another seventeen gazillion notches? A sick toddler on steroids.

So let me back up a little here. For the past week or so, there has been a cold, crawling its relentless way through the family. It started with Tre, and then Clay fell, then Max, then Raphael. It was your standard cold, with sneezing and bleary eyes and coughing. Gar. I hate the coughing. So I have spent the last week washing my hands obsessively, swallowing every supplement I could think of to keep myself well, and thinking fiercely about how I didn't intend for Sophia or me to get sick.

And that worked. For a while. Sophia woke up somewhere in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, and when I scooped her out of her crib, she was radiating feverish heat. Through the day she persisted in peakedness, saving the very best for the middle of the next night, when she woke up wheezing and coughing that tell-tale bark of a cough.

Croup. Stinking croup.

Four AM found Sophia and I in the bathroom, her looking in bewilderment at the hot water running full blast in the shower. I held her and worked on uncrossing my eyes. None of the boys ever had croup, and yet I'm already an expert in it. Let me explain it in the most precise terms here: croup sucks.

So fine, the next day we were away to the doctor, and that day she got her medicine - two doses of steroids to take down the swelling in her throat. That stuff works, I'll give it that. By the time she went to bed last night, she was breathing clear again. She slept fairly well last night.

She needed her energy to be a tiny pink ogre.

All day today she was an insane little crazy child. Nothing made her happy. The first day she was sick, I was drinking some tea that she didn't like the taste of. So she sat on my lap, and every time I took a sip, she screamed. Today I wished I could have that gentle, reasonable child back.

She screamed if I tried to put her down. She screamed if her brothers stood too close to her. She screamed if I touched the newspaper. She screamed if I tried to eat something. And forget offering her anything to eat (although she was open to eating chunks of butter, and when I nixed that idea, she...screamed).

All day long she was little princess mood swing. At one point I picked her up, sighing a little that there was no way to cuddle her without bringing The Voice so close to my ears. Once she was up in my arms, she curled against my chest. She grabbed a strand of my hair with gentle fingertips and croaked "mm-hmmm, mm-hmmm, mm-hmmm," our favorite baby-soothing sound, in a squawky sweet voice. I melted. Poor little pumpkin. I stroked her hair and murmured, "Oh, sweetie, you just don't feel good, do you?"

And she sat up, screamed in rage, and smacked me in the face.

I was not, it seems, invited to speak.

So that was our day. And tonight, in leiu of going to sleep, Sophia started coughing until she gagged herself and threw up all over both me and Clay. Now she's staggering around, so tired. I'm so tired. Clay is tired, although he won't admit it.

I'm not sure which of us I feel most sorry for.

Okay, it's her.

But it's pretty darn close.



That's awful. Now I feel sorry for my mother, because I know that I often had croup as a baby. I was the third and last child and neither of my siblings ever had it, so maybe I will have to conclude that females who are also the baby get croup more often than the average population?

I hope you all get some rest very very soon.


Sorry, I feel more sorry for you and Clay. She'll forget all about this in a day or two. You, however, will be remembering the smell of vomit in your hair for a lifetime.

(Why yes, I AM a special little ray of sunshine.) (You're welcome!)


She sounds Just.Like.Me on Prednisone! Death to everyone for you have angered the Clarity and now deserve to die. I'm sorriest for you and Clay for exactly what Mir said, you're going to be traumatized for much longer than she is!

Amma Always

There's nothing like it. And I mean that in a BAD way.

Look at that picture on the right of this comment section - in that pic, Raphi was just a little older than Sophia is now, and Tre was younger than Raphi is now. Life is a bullet train, that sometimes seems glacially slow! The "time passing thing", she seems confusing and weird, No?!


I feel sorriest for you...then she is next because steroids are awful on moods. Poor little pink ogress :-) Mine finished her last dose of antibiotic yesterday. Did you know that vomitting is a sign of strep? Me neither!

Her second strep infection, and her twin sister does not get them.

Karate Mom

Oh, I have felt your pain! When my daughter was about 2, SHE had croup and was on steroids. Thirty six hours after we started the meds, I called and begged the doctor to let me take her off of them because she was such a monster!

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