A Hard Night's Work

It's like that feeling somewhere between exhaustion and exhilaration. Or feeling like you haven't eaten or you spent too much time in the sun. It's nauseating, like you stayed up all night long gobbling Vivarin and cramming for a test that never came. You're still awake. But you're not there.

I'm still awake. I was the Captain of the S.S. Snowflake last night. It started strangely enough with my demon seed sweet SF marching upstairs of his own volition for bed. I was relieved and also too tired to stay awake for any of the elusive and so-called 'me' time. It was 9:32PM.

Midnight came roaring forth with rapid breathing and a fast heart beat pounding in a little chest. I hauled out "the technology"(SF's code for the nebulizer) and gave him a treatment. This seemed to help and I was able to lay quietly beside him until 3AM when he awoke with a slight fever.

I asked the little Pisces if he wanted to take a cool bath and he eagerly agreed.

"Mom, will you sit in the bathroom with me?"

I can never refuse his honey sweet chipmonk drawl, so I obliged. A few minutes later I took him out and put fresh jams on him.

"Ow! Mommy! My tummy hurts!"

"Do you want some crackers?"

I let him eat whole wheat saltines(only the Zesta brand will do) in my bed. Crunch crunch crunch. Lights out, radio on, he drifts off to sleep as I listen to the weirdos talk Ouija Boards on Coast to Coast. It's 4AM.

Suddenly it's 6AM and Snowflake is literally bawling, coughing and complaining that his throat and his tummy hurt. He asks to take a bath. I call my parents and they feel bad for him. I call his Dr's office and can't talk to anyone until 8AM. I find some bubblegum flavored kids Tylenol. He protests robustly, but yields to my syringe.

I give him his alpaca fur teddy bear and almost immediately he curls up in bed, vanquished and relieved by the medicine and the brief respite it provides.

It's 7:37 AM and my sweet Prince sleeps, he sleeps.