Kiddo's got the croup. A couple isolated barky coughs on Saturday night got my attention, so I wasn't completely surprised to hear him last night making seals-at-the-beach sounds as he slept. The tv schedule had promised a marathon of The Simpson's (yeay!) but delivered The X Factor (boo!) instead, so I settled in with my good book. Which was a good thing, as Kiddo coughed that terrible Strider cough and stirred enough to be upset. I was glad I could hear it, and snuggled up with him for a while.
One a.m. found me grabbing my pillow and heading down to his bed for good. The rest of the night was, more or less, pretty freakin' miserable. Despite the intermittent coughing, I'm pretty sure Kiddo got a better night of sleep than I did.
This morning, however, guess who was a pistol, running all over the place like a total crazy person? And guess who was propping her eyelids open so she could stay awake and call the doctor's office as soon as it opened?
After having a minor skirmish regarding that horribly arduous task of washing one's hands and putting on day clothes, I got into the shower and the following inane conversation transpired in my dead-tired brain:
Me: So, Croup, I see you're back to slap me around again and call me Nancy.
Croup: Yep. So what, Nancy?
Me: Well, your timing is at least considerate. Now that my seasonal crazy-making job is over, you've come to ensure that I don't want for drama in my life.
Croup: Yep. You can thank me for keeping it interesting, Nancy.
Less than an hour later, I was pulling Kiddo up the hill to the bus stop by the arm. In order to minimize Joe's time away from the office (because the wonderful doctor is crosstown and then some), we took the bus downtown and then all got in the car. Somehow, when your kid has a cold, all the gross people sucking on cigarettes seem like The Worst People In The World. Not trying to be judgy, but really? I don't force Kiddo's Music Together cds on the public, so I kinda wish they could just not light up when we are sharing a bus stop.
Speaking of the walking clueless, another epiphany I had this morning: the weary-bleary-eyed mothers at Urgent Care with croupy kids are in danger of being accidentally mistaken for the Zombie Apocalypse. At least, when I looked into the mirror, I was pretty sure there was someone staring back at me thinking "Braaaains....."
The doctor tells us that the croup is going around. Like last winter season, I'm expecting that this won't be our last time going to the doctor to get that awesome oral steroid medication before springtime. What I'm most grateful for, however, is my developing familiarity with this cough. I don't get scared any more. I know we probably have a few bad nights ahead before it's over, and I'll likely truly look like a bona-fide 100% walking undead person when all of this is done, but I didn't panic, and I didn't wait until Kiddo had a full-on bad night. Like many unpleasant things in life, knowing what you're walking into is a consolation in some way. It's bad, but you've done this particular bad before. It's like that terrible person you know you're going to see at a friend's party; you know the deal already, you know what to say and what not to say and when to say "Oh, excuse me for a minute, I see the deviled eggs have arrived" and politely excuse yourself. It's those devils we know that, in some way, I appreciate, because they aren't sudden natural disasters or industrial catastrophes. They're just little devils.
In short, I can wrap my head around Kiddo's croup. We'll get past it. Even if it does like to slap me around and call me Nancy...