I posted this status on Facebook yesterday…
In my defence I’d spent the previous day taking my son for scans and x-rays, then had a rough rest of the day with both kids, before having to share my bed with Master 4 who was unwell and in pain. His wriggling, crying, pulling the covers off of me and regular kicks to the hurtiest (that’s a word, right?) parts of my body, plus Miss 2′s nightime wakings resulted in me having almost no sleep. I was tired and dealing with 2 sick kids that day, but even sickness would not shut Master 4 up. He has questions about everything, and if he runs out of questions he’ll look around for random objects he can make up a question about.
Looking at a stone, “Why is this a stone?”
Looking at the car he put on the floor 1 second ago, “Mummy why is this car here?”
“Mummy, is the mass that makes up the dark matter halos around galaxies made up of the lightest form of supersymmetric particle?”
And of course, my all time favourite question, “Mummy, what’s that?”
“Which that are we referring to?”
“That Mummy, THAT,” without actually indicating where THAT is located.
By the time I wrote that status I was exhausted and my brain hurt.
Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, Karma has been reading my statuses. Obviously I’m flattered that such a big name is following me, but I could have done without her bitch-slap.
As I was lowering my tired carcass into bed, Miss 2 erupted in nasty coughing of the seal-barking variety, followed by desperate attempts to draw breath. Wrapping her up in a blanket, we took her outside into the cold air to help her breathing. It improved slightly and she was able to gasp between breaths that she wanted to go back to bed. We tried to explain that she couldn’t, but she got more and more distressed which made her breathing worse. Eventually we had to put her in bed while we waited for the ambulance in an attempt to calm her down. Thankfully, after about 30 seconds she realised that lying down was not the best option, and I was able to get her up again.
When the ambulance eventually arrived (yeah thanks Karma for giving her croup on a Friday night), Miss 2 became a model patient and gratefully accepted the nebulised adrenalin without any fuss. By the time we got to hospital she was vastly improved, and not long after that the side effects of the adrenalin were kicking in. And then steroids were thrown into the mix!
For the next few hours I got to enjoy watching my daughter bouncing off the walls, the bed, and me while she chattered non-stop. I called for the doctor and the doctor said, “no more monkey’s jumping on the bed.”
But she just laughed and carried on jumping.
Her questions just kept on coming – they were so completely random that they put her brother to shame. Best of all, we were confined together in a room with no escape for me, so I had no choice but to answer some seriously weird shit. I imagine the thought processes of someone who is tripping might be very similar to those of a 2 year old.
When we finally had the all clear to go home I sat in the passenger seat, exhausted, listening to her brother rabbit on and I didn’t mind one little bit.
Well played, Karma. Well played.