What's more fun than a trip to the ER with a vomiting toddler with a 105-degree fever who can hardly breathe??
A trip to urgent care two days later with a feverish newborn.
So went our week, beginning Tuesday, when, after a sick day at home, Carter awoke in the early evening with extremely labored breathing, a hacking cough, buckets of vomit, and a scorching fever. Max rushed him to the ER, where they stayed for the next five hours as he received oxygen, steroids, and other good stuff like that. Croup, they said.
CROUP IS A BITCH.
He's recovering well, I am happy to report. Fever is almost gone, cough (which sounded soooo classically croupy and seal-like) is much improved. Doctor says he can return to school on Monday. Little G is fine too - urgent care checked him out and said that as long as the mild fever stays under 100.4, we're okay. 100.4 and up merits another trip to the ER. Today he was in the 99's (fingers crossed and wood knocking, th-th-th over my shoulder).
Fortunately, I have not been alone in this madness, as my husband has been working short days and my awesome mother-in-law has been coming to help. I cannot imagine doing it alone, as keeping sick, coughing Carter occupied and separated from his (mostly healthy th-th-th) little brother as much as possible for entire days is no easy task. It's been a crash course in HOLY CRAP we have two kids now!!?!? Like Sara said, it's NO JOKE, people. Sheesh.
So it's been a rough couple of weeks, with mastitis giving way to croupiness and general mayhem. But as if to make up for it, my sweet little Finnster slept for 6.5 hours IN A ROW last night. Huzzah!