Wednesday, November 18, 2009

The Sounds of Sickness

Theia: "My frope hurts." "I need to frop." "I'm gonna go frop in the toilet because I don't want any frop to get in my bed." "{wailing, completely mortified} I wetted in my b-e-e-e-e-d!" (we heard that two nights in a row before reverting back to nighttime diapers until she's completely over this) "That toast won't help my frope. I need some candy for my frope." And, most recently, since jealousy is setting in because her younger sisters are now sicker than she is: "My fever hurts." and, "I think I have a sore frope, I need some mestidin too."

Eliza: "I want a drink of water!" "No, I don't WANT a drink of water!" "I want my covers on!" "{kicking} No, I don't WANT my covers on!" "Can I have some juice?" "No, I don't WANT my juice!" "Daddy, can you come hold me in my bed?" "Get out of my bed now, Daddy." "Mommy, I want you to hold me." "No, I don't want you to hold me!" "I want you to stand up and hold me." "Don't talk to me, Theia!" "Ingrid's looking at me!" "{tearfully} I'm too sick to eat that."

Theia is very analytical, and into self-diagnosis when she's sick. You can tell when she really doesn't feel well because she becomes painfully polite. Its kind of funny, but pathetic too, how she suddenly remembers her manners when she's sick. She LOVES taking medicine (a little too much), and frequently tells me when she thinks its needed.

Eliza, on the other hand, is equally pathetic, but definitely NOT polite about it. Its kind of good, actually, because I always know how she's feeling. If I give her Motrin for her fever, her behaviour and disposition does a complete 180 so I know its working. Getting the Motrin in is the difficulty though. That girl is a fighter.

And Ingrid is just the most pathetically patient, long-suffering martyr of a sick baby you'll ever see. During her two worst days she just burrowed her little face in mine or Jessie's shoulder most of the day while we went about our business while holding her in one arm. She kept Jessie in bed late yesterday morning because she was sleeping so soundly on his chest for several hours, and she pulled away from me every time I tried to move her.

Thankfully they are all improving, although not completely over it yet. My days have been filled with sprinting across the room at top speed, trying to get to the twin streams trickling down the upper lips of my daughters before they take care of it themselves with the back-of-hand-across-the-cheek (and sometimes all the way up to the eyebrows) method.

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