And that's what we've got, my friends. One 4 year old with a big old fat ugly case of strep throat. Which we probably passed along to about a half dozen of his closest friends before we realized he was sick. Because we're awesome like that. What can I say? We're givers.
It started on Saturday afternoon, after hours of cavorting with his friends (and sharing all that fabulous strep), he was quiet and sleepy and flushed. If you've spent 5 minutes with Ethan, or really any preschooler, "quiet" and "sleepy" are really not words you'd use often as descriptors. So we knew something was up. We've been lucky in that, especially since moving to California, Ethan been really healthy--he doesn't tend to catch "what's going around," has only had 1 ear infection and 1 stomach virus. We? Are very lucky.
The Sick couldn't have come at a worse time from Ethan's perspective--we had to back out of what looked like it was going to be a kick-ass backyard, evening camping party for one of his friends that he'd been talking about for weeks. There were going to be tents and s'mores and campfires. But alas, instead it was a dose of motrin, his own bed & a nightlight. There *may* have been a boat-load of tears over that one.
So I was pretty relieved this morning when he seemed to forget that it was the first day of school. Thankfully, Husband and I can still spell most things without Ethan catching on, so we had a whole spelling-bee style conversation about how there would be no s-c-h-o-o-l on Monday and that instead we were going to have to go to the d-o-c-t-o-r. Sometimes we get on such a role that we end up having to stop for a minute to figure out what the hell the other person just spelled. We're really smart like that. Anyway, Ethan did not mind this morning when he overheard me calling the director of the school to let her know that E wouldn't be there. Perhaps he was feeling just bad enough not to care one way or the other.
We saw the doctor early in the morning, which was good, given that the on-call doctor from the night before had not bothered to call us back after I called about not only the fever and the throat, but an odd, out of the blue, not-clearly-related-to-anything-at-all-in-the-universe, swollen bottom lip that came on around 5pm last night. We still have no idea what it was from, if he bit his lip, if it was an allergic reaction--no clue. But some Benadryl, or just time cleared it up, so I guess whatever that doctor was doing to led him or her to ignore our call? Pffffttt. We may be shopping for a new pediatric group, because really. When you're on call and you don't respond to my call about a fever and swelling? You don't really need my business so much.
I've learned that the only thing worse that having a doctor shove a cotton swab in your own throat, is watching the doctor stick a cotton swab down your kid's throat. Poor little man. He was so shocked by the whole thing that he couldn't cry; just looked at me like "why why why did you let her dooooooo that to me?!!!" Felt super. Fortunately the doctor gave him a sugary, artificially-flavored lollipop to soothe him before she took the swab to the lab (did I mention I was shopping for another pediatric practice?).
The thing about a sick 4 year old? They have no idea how to milk it. Where's the lying on the couch? The moaning and groaning? The "mommmmmmmy, I need (fill in blank with everything from ice packs for his fever to popcicles for his sore throat),"? This is what my kid looked like in the doctor's waiting room:
Bless his heart. Maybe he was delirious from the fever (hardly; it was only 100), but he was thrilled to be sitting in her waiting room.
And later in the day, while I was heating up our un-airconditioned house on the hottest day of the summer with 3 burners going to make chicken soup, matzo balls, and noodles, he was in the living room pretending to be on some sort of sunny canoeing expedition:
But yesterday he was not so canoe-y-go-lucky. Behold the swollen lip:
Not his best look. The doctor said he most likely bit his lip but didn't realize it, as he'd been eating popcicles for most of the day. I am not sure I buy that. Can you really bite your lip hard enough for it to do this & not realize it? Even if you're in a popcicle-as-medicine induced lip coma?
The doctor told us that a few doses of the antibiotics and he'll be good as new (but yes, we know we have to take ALL ten days of it) and that he can go to school on Wednesday. Which is good news for both of us. The fever seems to have taken a hike, so I am looking forward to a full day of "Mom, I'm soooooooo bored!" tomorrow.
And just as an aside, please feast your eyes on the blast o' retro I spied at Target today while waiting for E's prescription to be filled:
Holy hell, is that a freaking Monchhichi??!! Is it 1983?!