There is not much that can make the entire experience of a one-year old with an ear infection worse.
Except the jackass pediatrician that I had to see because my regular pediatrician was not at the office yesterday. No, I didn't think it was a great idea to let her run a fever for yet a third day in a row, so I got stuck with this guy:
"How high has it been? I hope you thought to give her Tylenol? She has an ear infection. She hasn't had a flu shot yet? Welllll, you need to make that happen. Um, yeah, you can give her a flu shot on top of an ear infection, despite everything you've ever heard to the contrary. Duh. You are possibly the worst mother ever."
Her regular pediatrician is this really nice older man with a gentle bedside manner and a soothing Indian accent who says things like "We are delighted with Wendy. What a happy girl she is! You can tell that she is a secure and wonderful baby!" Hear that, Dr. Jackhole? HAPPY AND SECURE. You can take your attitude and FUCK OFF.
Anyway, for about a week now, Wendy has insisted on draping her body on top of mine (especially around my head area) for every second of every day, waking and sleeping. Somehow this makes the sick-y feeling in her body feel better. (You should try to sleep with 26 pounds of human on your face sometime. Fun stuff.) The whole arrangement makes for rediculous and futile attempts at holiday activities like shopping, wrapping, baking, etc, which in turn makes me all desperate and panicky. Cause if I don't do the shopping and wrapping and baking, it won't get done, people. And then where will we be??? WHERE??? Eating condensed cream of cheese soup for Christmas dinner, that's where!
The most heartbreaking thing is how sweet she is, all drippy and bleary-eyed, but still smiling and trying to give me kisses and feed me Cheerios. Or when, in the middle of the night, she wakes up all feverish, sits bolt-right up in bed, leans in really close to my face, and exclaims, "HI! Mommy!" as if she is so excited and delighted to see me! Here! Of all places!! And after an exploritory poke at Daddy (just to make sure he's still there), she settles down on my shoulder and falls back asleep, patting me on the cheek.
How am I supposed to give a crap about Christmas dinner after that? I like freezer pizzas, don't you?
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