Bronchitis kicked my ass. After two weeks of absolutely no improvement, the doctor suggested on Friday that perhaps what I’m dealing with is bacterial rather than viral and wouldn’t you know it—a few days of antibiotics and I no longer have a cough that requires pantyliners. Praise dog. I’m still going through a box of tissues a day, but it was that deep, hacking cough that was really killing me.
Of course now, rather than being kept awake at night by my miserable cough, I am being kept awake by the toddler who still can’t breathe. Three weeks of this shit. We had two blissful days last week where we weren’t having to pin her down to suction her nose every hour. I even put the humidifier away on Thursday night, which I am NEVER EVER DOING AGAIN because she woke up Friday morning dripping like a faucet again. I am just SO DONE with this shit. We were up with her approximately every 90 minutes last night. I am getting too old for this.
She’s also working on her 2-year molars, which appears to be pure hell. So there’s that.
Apparently, Charlotte has some feelings about this combination of sickness and teething because Catch reported yesterday that she was stomping around the house yelling, “Damnit!” repeatedly. I feel ya, kid. I really do.
It appears we’re all just a bit on the grouchy side. (This one was courtesy of my mom when she babysat yesterday.)
Over the next 10-ish days, we’re supposed to prepare a shit ton of stuff to sell at a consignment sale (ugh—they make it so complicated!), host an Easter brunch, attend two other Easter events, and go camping for 3 days. Also, you know, work. It would be really great if we could all get healthy and maybe—I know this is a stretch—get more than 2 consecutive hours of sleep. Please.