trapped

There has to be a name for the phenomenon of events that are highly anticipated but always seem to disappoint. New Year's Eve, for instance. It just never works out quite how you had it in your head. That's why we re-evaluated and began doing a family pizza party with friends and we are all happy to be asleep as the ball drops. Morning comes early no matter which year it is, and this mama is no morning person. But I digress.

I'm adding Spring Break to the List. I had such high hopes for this week full of beautiful weather. Zoo adventures at the new dinosaur exhibit. Park-hopping picnic. Dirt pile. And then a looooong weekend at the lake house.

I have left the house twice in four days; both times to go to the pediatrician.

Peter developed a fever on Sunday that has persisted ever since. Ibuprofen makes him comfortable but I can tell when it's wearing off - fever keeps coming back. He has thrown up a couple of times so his menu is limited, making for some fantastic negotiation practice. It's a virus, so we just have to let it run its course. Davis has been quite a trooper given our homeboundness. (?) Well, until today.

Sweet boy had another seizure this afternoon as he was waking from his nap.

Thank goodness for video monitors. Thank goodness for maternal instincts and thank goodness for the ability to text "911 D seizing" and have my husband fly through the door in 5 minutes, no questions asked.

To see him tonight you wouldn't know a thing was wrong. In an hour and a half he had emerged groggy, droopily tolerated an exam at the pediatrician, and then began pointing out rescue vehicles and machines on the way back home. By the time we had supper, he was chatty, inquisitive and demanding as ever. Add a cookie for dessert and as far as he was concerned, life was perfect.

Now we are setting alarms to dole out ibuprofen during the night to both boys. As my friend Carolyn pointed out, Spring Break does call to mind "viruses" but they are usually preceded by too much beer or rum.

So as I document this run of bad luck, I feel compelled to include how proud I am of Peter for his positive attitude this week. Being sick is a drag but he has managed to get by with only a couple of meltdowns, mostly surrounding the exclusion of milk from his menu options. Tragic, I tell you! I have rolled my eyes and complained about the circumstances, all the while washing my hands every 5-7 minutes. But I must admit that if I have to be stuck in a house for four days without so much as a grocery run, I'm glad I'm stuck with them.