So, last night, about 1:45 am Malcolm started crying. And by crying, I mean screaming like six cats with their tails caught under the world's largest steam roller. We went down the Parents' Check List -- is he cold? Hot? Hungry? Thirsty? In pain? Scared? Reflux? Etc. We got nothing. He knows enough words and signs to tell us all these things and more. He told us "no" to all of them. If I held him, he screamed for Matthew. If Matthew held him, he screamed for me. If we put him back in the crib he screamed. After an hour, we gave him Children's Advil, even though he said nothing hurt. We figured only pain would cause him to be this frantic and inconsolable. We waited half an hour for the advil to kick in . . . . and nothing.
4 am arrives, and he's still screaming his head off. Now, if these 2 plus hours had passed with no calm moments whatsoever, we would have called the peds and headed for the emergency room. That's how hard the crying was. But . . . He would calm down if the lights were on, and we cuddled in the chair reading books. After Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, Personal Penguin, and Goodnight Moon, he was all smiles and cooing. "Hi" and "Peek-A-Boo," and giggles. Seriously, kid? It's four in the freakin' morning, and the only one in the house enjoying the super warm down comforter on our bed is the dog. We'd get him calm, happy, settled, but the moment he hit the crib again, it was Rage Time.
By 4:45 am, Matthew had given up on the night entirely, and was on the computer, with trips into Malcolm's room every 20 minutes to try to calm him, and make sure he was still okay. I still held onto a small shred of hope, so I was buried under the down comforter, trying desperately to build an aura of heat around me before the next 20 minute timer went off, and I had to get back up again.
He finally fell asleep just past 6am. . . . which left a little under an hour till our alarm clocks went off.
Poop.
Well, at least he was sleeping. We turned the alarms off, crawled under the comforter, and all slept a while. I got up at 9am, to head to the hospital where I volunteer, while Matthew and Malcolm kept sleeping till 10am. The hospital program ended up getting cancelled, as I was the only volunteer there, so I headed back home with Starbucks, in time to get Malcolm to the pediatrician appointment.
Our doctor wasn't in today, but we met another doc in the practice, who was absolutely fabulous with a very tired and cranky Malcolm (and Mommy and Dada.) The verdict . . . . ear infection! Poor Malcolm! We felt pretty good as parents that one of our first guesses in the night (pain, and thus advil) was the right way to go. And we felt miserable that the advil pretty much did nothing to help!
So, home we went, with a stop by the store to pick up Malcolm's very first antibiotic (as well as some yogurt and bananas, for the likely side effects.) The pain must have spiked in the car ride home, as he completely lost his cool, throwing a tantrum so big that the cars next to us at the stoplight just sat and stared like we were some sort of circus attraction. I especially "enjoyed" the car-full of ladies who tsked and shook their heads at our obviously criminally bad parenting. I hope they were completely grossed out a moment later when the tantrum brought on the endless rounds of tantrum vomit. He coated himself, the carseat, parts of the backseat. . . .
Great. 12:30 in the afternoon, and our really really really long night still wasn't over. Matthew cleaned him up while I took apart the saturated carseat to wash all the parts. It took half an hour to calm him down enough to get him to keep some pain meds down. A little lunch, and then down for a nap -- one which we all desperately need. Putting him in the crib brought on a fresh round of tantrum, but after I went back in once, he calmed down.
I'd like to think that he's asleep now, as I type. At least he's not screaming. But I do hear whines and whimpers. What I wouldn't give for a magic wand to wave and make it all better. I'd suffer it all, and then some, in his place if I could. I'll have to content myself with knowing that this is his first ear infection, first antibiotic, and that soon he'll be feeling better. Until then, we can at least offer the max amount of pain killers (alternating tylonel and advil every three hours) that our peds will allow.
So, dear readers, please send good thoughts our way. If you like, you can click on "comments" just below this paragraph, to share some words of sympathy or encouragement (hint hint).
