The Week that Wasn't

I had a plan for this week: a thought-out, filled to the brim kinda plan. Every hour was accounted for and every day had achievable goals.

Sound nuts? Well, I knew this week would be nuts. We're finishing up house projects before Mac's party Saturday and preparing for the celebration itself. I also had a busy work week ahead with an extra (fun!) project on my plate.

Then Mac got fussy on Sunday. And feverish Sunday night. And refused to be put down for hours at a time. He wanted our arms around him at all times, our faces right next to him. Our sweet boy just wasn't himself.

Monday morning we found out why: In addition to cutting four canine teeth, he has an ear infection and hand, foot and mouth disease. We came home with a prescription to treat the ear infection and were told that only Tylenol and time could cure the rest.

By Tuesday afternoon Mac was so much worse that B took him back to the doctor for a stronger antibiotic and another look. Sure enough, the HFM had become the worst the doctor had seen in years - red bumps all over his sweet body. Miserable spots down into his throat and all over the inside of his mouth. And a double ear infection on top of everything.

B rarely takes Mac to the doctor; that's my gig. I, however, was at home curled up in bed with a bottle of Gatorade in one hand and some ginger ale in the other. It hasn't been pretty. (Neither have I.) What a week - and it was only Tuesday.

Bradley took Mac outside to swing last night, as it was the only suggestion that managed a smile out of our unhappy boy. Sadly, ten minutes outside turned into four mosquito bites on his face, bites that have since become welts. WELTS. On top of everything. My boy can't catch a break.

Mac at the doc - and not nude, though it sure looks that way here!

He's old enough to tell me his mouth hurts, his ears hurt, his knee hurts. (That last part he's just making up to get kisses, but he's so pitiful I don't blame him.)

He's young enough to be clingier than Downy-less laundry. And at nearly 34 pounds, it's an act of sacrificial love to haul this handsome hunk of a mini-man around. But I'm doing it.

I'm also emailing and phone calling and to-do listing and eagerly counting down his return to school tomorrow and grandparents' arrival on Friday. We are ready to have extra hands on deck!

Boy oh boy, I had big plans for this week. Few items have made it to fruition, but I'm thankful for a husband who goes to the pharmacy for meds and comes home with ginger ale, Gatorade and a bag of candy corn for me. (I can't eat it quite yet, but just the sight of it makes me smile.)

And our second baby (wow that's crazy to say!) is just fine. My doctor assures me that a day of liquids only won't hurt her, and heaven knows I have enough fat in reserve to sustain this child through Labor Day 2015. They did ask me to refrain from kissing our infected little guy, but that warning came days too late.

The worst is over, I hope, and the contagious days are definitely behind us. I cringe thinking about the symptom-less days before he became sick when we spread our germs unknowingly all over town. Eep.

For now, forgive our radio silence in real life and in the blog world. I hope to return with some fun pre-birthday pictures later this week and some party fun after his shindig Saturday.

Funny how a small, simple and sweet get-together becomes quite an ordeal at the end of a week like this one. Even laying out a PB&J dinner for three would be a struggle at this moment.

I'm focusing on Lysol and staying germ-free 'til Mac blows out those candles. Red spots or no spots, the boy deserves to celebrate his second year with a bang.