Ah, motherhood. I often say to people, it is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. And while I have realized as of late that it is also the very best thing I’ve ever experienced, this does not remove the complete and ridiculous unpredictability of it all.
Two weeks ago {I think. It may have been three. We’ve had a go of it around these parts.} fevers found their way into our two little loves. First, it was B man. And when B man gets a fever, something is awry {we’ve been feve free since the tubes entered our lives}. So in we went. 102.8. Yuck. Two days later, the spots appeared. First on the feet. Then we noticed something funky in his mouth. Then on his mitts. And soon, the spots muddled in with hives that covered him from waist to ankles. Hand – check. Foot – check. Mouth – check. Hives – who knows why.
If you’ve never heard of Hand, foot and mouth, count yourself lucky. It in no way has to do with ingesting feces {this may have been what I thought previously}. That is a whole other ball of icky wax. Hand, foot and mouth comprises bumps on sometimes all three of these areas. These bumps turn into blisters and eventually, the blisters break open and look absolutely putrid. It is honestly one of the most disgusting things and seriously, I have wiped butts and other parts on old people before. I have changed Jackson Pratts. I have had hemorrhoids. But hand foot and mouth, for some reason, made me want to barf.
Because it is highly contagious, Jonah then contracted the disease and very soon, both boys were spotty and dotty. After about 2 weeks, the spots began to disappear and left behind are the blister casings where spots once lived. Eeew.
Phew. We made it through… or did we?
Well, in keeping things rashy, I awoke to spots on my neck yesterday morning. Six little spots accompanied by neck pain set up shop behind my ear and I thought puberty had struck again. After some very helpful advice from a few very good friends, I found myself in the doctor’s office with an affirmative diagnosis of shingles. That’s right, shingles. No, I’m not 80. I’m not stressed. But I’ve got shingles.
And in order to receive this diagnosis, I had to tote a toddler and an 11 month old to the doctor with me. If you’ve ever tried to pee in a cup while one child stands in front of you trying to figure out the situation and the other stands behind you continuously testing out the flusher, then you know what I mean when I say that the actual shingles are more tolerable than taking two children to the doctor. So one hour and a prescription for herpes medication later, the boys and I exited the doctors office and I am on spot watch for the boys.
I would take a guess that Adam would be next but since he sprained his ankle last week and knocked off his rearview mirror I am hoping he has already paid his toll.
I am not even joking when I say that this is one of those times where, in my former life, my LBK, I would have taken a few days off of work and nursed myself back to full force, caught up on lost ZZZ’s and rejuvenated my energy source but in motherhood, that just isn’t always possible. And fortunately, after having pushed two people out of my girl Friday, this pain is actually quite tolerable and mostly, it’s just a pain in the neck.
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