This fine morning found G and I at the pediatrician's office, where she recommended steaming up a bathroom and I just kept looking at her blankly until she offered the oral steroid, because I've been down this croup road before, and that's the thing that makes it all better quickly, at least for my babes. Because, really, who does croup in August? Because the only croup treatment I really know is to wrap my baby up in quickly-grabbed couch afghans and sit on the front porch under the starlight until my bum gets frostbite from the cement slab that's only one thin pajama fabric away. Because normal kids get croup in the dead of winter, but that's fine, G, mix it up. I love you.
So the lovely husband and I got four minutes of sleep last night, combined, which was awesome timing for the enactment of Plan: Get E to Drop Her Naps Before She Starts Kindergarten In a Week. Because the best part of Saturday, everyone knows, is when the lovely husband puts G down to nap but falls asleep in the rocking chair, and I convince the girls that they want to nap together, in the big bed, meaning my bed, and I curl up between them for the sole purpose of reading stories, but take a lovely long nap between my two girl-chickies, and now I can't do that because E is going to be a no-napper, and, that's it, I'm cancelling kindergarten.
We've been interviewing nannies to fill the gap in our aftercare situation, the one where kindergarten dismisses at 3pm and the rest of the family usually gets home at 7pm, and I've been saying to candidates that they need to be creative and proactive, because E has never been an only child and does not know what to do with herself when she's not with her sister and her friends, and holy something, I stayed awake with that girl all afternoon and she did not stop talking to me the entire time.
So we did not sleep last night, I stayed awake with TurboGirl while the languishing husband put FeverFace and AwakeEnvy down to nap, and then we discovered that the air conditioning was broken, but in a whole separate way from the way it broke three weeks ago. What's awesome about that is that right after that last weekend in July, the weather broke and we had a nice, mild spell. That ended, of course, earlier this week, but if you're wondering what it's like to be so tired you want to stab your eyes out while walking around holding 28 pounds of feverish clingitude in an 80-degree house, it's pretty awesome.
The good news is that the emergency costs-extra,-I'm-sure air conditioning technician dude did get the unit working again after a new fuse, new thermostat and cleaned contacter and I cannot possibly explain to you how itchy I'm feeling that the new thermostat is smaller in width than the old one, and I have to sand the edges off about six layers of paint color, and infill, and I really want to do it right this minute except he's coming back tomorrow** because we really need a new contacter (is that a real word? I saw the piece he's talking about and there is a point of contact that needs to engage and disengage but is it called a contacter? Because I truly appreciate emergency fix dude but English was not, I'm guessing, his first language) and he's only going to permanently install the thermostat at that time.
Oh wait, I can show you:
Now you can be itchy, too.
The day was a mite stressful and at separate points, the desperate husband and I each took some migraine medicine (filled with caffeine), forgot to eat, and struggled to care for ourselves in the higher priorities of the house, the sick kid, and the really healthy, active, inquisitive and incessant other two children. So after we finally got all three children asleep and came downstairs, the lovely husband brought out a snack of ice cream. Coffee flavored, and caffeinerific. At 11:15 at night. I might never go to bed again.
**The fact that technician dude asked me not to touch the thermostat until tomorrow is totally not stopping me from sanding that wall right now. It's just that that hallway is right under G's room, and I'm scared to make any noise. Odds are very high that he will wake up about five minutes after we finally go to bed, but if he wakes up before I even sleep at all, I will cry. Air condition dude's instructions don't scare me. G's light sleeping totally scares me.