Yes, darn it, I'm still in my pajamas! You got a problem with that, punk?

Ahem. Okay, so that was over the top. I'm a little too exhausted right now to consider such things as manners, propriety, and proportionate responses. Gabe's sick. Sort of sick, anyway. He's doing that weird thing he did over the Christmas holidays, where he spiked a fever in the night that disappeared during the day, only this time the fevers are higher and his reaction to them is more demanding of parental attention.

In other words, for the past two nights, Gabe has been tossing, turning, sobbing, yowling, and searching desperately for the one, true solution to end his misery and why won't you make it better, Mommy? Don't you LOVE ME ANYMORE?!

Yesterday during the day, he was just fine and dandy, but today he's taking a little longer to bounce back from his nighttime agonies. Perhaps he's not bouncing back much at all, at that; his temperature has dropped, but he's still hot, and his eyes are glazed and dull. He refuses to stop forsake his attempts to play with Sam, though, no matter how much I try to entice him with a soft blanket and nursings. He'll cuddle in my lap just almost to the point of sleep, and then he jerks himself back to consciousness with a furious howl at the thought of what he was about to do.

At least Sam isn't trying to snuggle up to his sick brother. I warned him about what getting sick could mean to him, and the idea of having to miss tomorrow's "Pajama Day" at preschool was too dreadful for him to take the risk.

Later...

Well, he finally couldn't prop up his eyelids anymore, and I was able to slip his exhausted body into his toddler bed (yay, Freecycle!) upstairs. Sam's in his bed for his afternoon quiet time, too, so I was able to finally grab a shower and pull a comb through my hair. I should be resting, but the two cups of coffee and can of soda I used to keep myself going this morning are now treacherously conspiring to prevent me from that. Gah!

Hard to believe that it's been more than a week since I updated last; usually, something subconsciously reminds me to write by about the six-day mark. We've been busy, though. This weekend, we went to have family portraits taken. (Remember the pictures the boys had taken this summer? We got gift certificates from them for referring people there, and they were about to expire.) The portraits turned out beautifully, though anytime we grownups get in front of the camera, it usually starts getting much easier to turn down some of the pictures.

We had formal shots done, and we had some done in casual clothes. Gabe was grumpy about the whole experience (hmmm, could he have already been feeling sick? I wonder.), and when Eric saw him start pawing at my front, he hit on the idea of having a nursing portrait done. I was hesitant, but I decided to go for it, and I am so glad we did; it's one of my favorite pictures. I can't wait to see it full-sized!

Of course, the picture doesn't show that I was cringing inwardly in pain from the moment he latched on. We've been dealing with thrush - itchy, ouchy, bright red and sore for me. He's symptomless, which is a blessing. We initially tried Gentian Violet, but that went poorly; Gabe took one look at my "purple nur-nurs" (Gentian Violet dyes everything it touches, including the baby's mouth, a vivid purple) and became immediately averse to nursing. By the second application, he refused to nurse at all, which was devastating for him, especially as GV does not wash off. He spent a night bawling in frustration, sleepy and desperate but refusing to give in. The next day we worked through the nursing strike, tricking him into nursing without looking first, until the purple faded enough that he could relax.

Next, we tried Nystatin. Either it didn't work and the thrush got worse, or (more likely) I had an allergic reaction to it; I got much redder and sorer, and I began to peel. We went for a few days, and I couldn't handle it anymore. At Gabe's well-baby check on Monday, I begged the doctor for a prescription for Diflucan.

Two doses in (of seven total), and I'm already feeling much better. Next time (please, God, don't let there be a next time!), I know where to go from the start. No fooling around anymore.

In the meantime while finishing writing that, Gabe and Sam both woke up. Gabe was in wretched form, whining and slapping at my hands, demanding that I put him down right this instant, then clinging to my knees and whimpering at me for the injustice of letting his feet touch the ground. It's going to be a very, very long day. The only thing getting me through it, especially considering that Eric has a coworker from out of town who invited him out for dinner tonight, is that tomorrow is Open Knitting at my local yarn store and Eric promised me that he'd take the boys and let me go relax.

I actually anticipate quite a bit of time being spent there over the next couple of months as I cast on my newest ambition:

I can't start just yet, because the yarn store is having a giant clearance sale starting next Tuesday, and I don't want to shoot myself in the foot. I'll browse the wools tomorrow night, but stick to the dishcloths I'm doing (keep Knitting Resolution Number 2!) until the prices drop and I can swing nice fiber.

Anybody want to knit along with me? This is my first venture into lace-making, and I'm excited and scared. I'd love some company, and it's a free pattern (click on the picture). Come play with me?

Yesterday in the car:

ME: (singing) "You can't always get what you want...But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."
SAM: (singing) "And sometimes what you need is money, so you get that...and sometimes what you need is groceries, so you go get some groceries...and sometimes what you need is some better toys..." etc.