… to WebMD.
Seriously. Kenny woke up this morning with a stiff neck. It was the first thing he said when he got out of bed. An hour later he had a respectable fever, and two hours after that was sound asleep in his bed, covers under his chin. The kid hasn’t napped since I was pregnant with Cooper.
He woke up two hours later crying hysterically about his neck hurting. I started thinking about meningitis (I am so hooked on TV hospital dramas), and Googled his symptoms. Hm. He had all of them but photo-sensitivity. I made him come outside and stand in the sun with me. He started wailing that the light hurt his eyes. Panic set in.
I called his doctor’s office and they told me to give him some motrin and bring him in for the last appointment of the day. He was so pathetic, lying there on the couch. “Carry me, Mama…” he whimpered. When it was time to go, I took Cooper to the car and came back for Kenny, then started calling friends on the 20 minute ride to the pediatricians’ office to find someone who could watch Cooper, just in case I suddenly found myself going to the hospital. One of Kenny’s old babysitters was home, and I dropped off The Coop, who looked at me like I was insane as I plopped him into a veritable stranger’s arms. Kenny spent most of the car ride barfing into an Orioles hat (it was a freebie) and it was so full and soaked through that I tossed it into a dumpster in the parking lot.
By the time we got into the exam room, though, he was on all four cylinders: Motrin-jazzed to the hilt. The doctor walked in and said, “He doesn’t have meningitis. He doesn’t even look sick!” She examined him and said, “Garden variety virus. He’ll get a little worse when the sun goes down. Keep up the Motrin.”
Whew. I hate you, WebMD!
I picked up Cooper, and our babysitter, along with her three siblings, both parents and a cousin met us at the door. (It was dinner time, did I mention that?) They are one of the most loving families I know and apparently all wanted to play with “the baby” but Cooper wouldn’t let anyone but our babysitter hold him. I guess he figured that since I handed him to her, she must be safe, right?
We got home and Kenny, who hadn’t eaten all day, downed three plates of spaghetti, then stayed up through the fifth inning of the O’s game on TV before deciding that it was time for a little shut-eye. I had to phone into a meeting I was supposed to attend, and laid in the bed with Kenny and my cell phone on mute, stroking his hair while he asked me 101 questions about baseball, barfing and boogymen.
Now I stare, spent, at a really messy house. I pretty much let Cooper get into anything he wanted all day while I doted on Kenny, and now I face the consequences. At least all’s well that ends well…