Dearest Mommy, Part II of…?
First, a little background. Last Friday, Leif got his second round of immunization shots–and when I say round, what I really mean is battery. FIVE, to be exact, and one by mouth just for a little extra fun. So, after watching the friendly Doc impale my son’s tender baby butter thighs FIVE times and dealing with the ensuing aftermath, I was one mushy mommy. But Leif was very brave when all was said and done and calmed down very quickly in my embrace.
Back at home, he went down nicely for a nap and woke up two hours later with a smile on his face. Until I picked him up. Then came the most pitiable and wrenching cries a mommy could be asked to bear. The shots had fully registered in his tiny little quadriceps, which I’m sure were then seriously on fire. Plus he seemed a little feverish, due to his mini-affliction with such diseases as Diphtheria, Polio and your basic Streptococcus Pneumonia, to name a few. So it was a total body vaccination experience.
I changed his diaper and brought him to our bed for some unavailing comfort, all the while attempting not to disturb his fiery thighs, which, I assure you, was no small feat. He finally relaxed a little and went back to a whimpering sleep with fingers in mouth and a plaintive brow. To make a long blog slightly less long: it was a difficult night. Day Two included less painful legs but more fever and many long naps.
Toward the end of Day Two, I was feeding Leif on our bed and guessed that he was beginning to feel better, clues of which included frequent pullings away to look anywhere but at me or babble in Leif-Tongue (somewhere between something Slavic and something Martian), and a general return to his recently acquired dinnertime fussiness. So, relieved though I was to see him emerge from the vaccination malaise, I was annoyed and took the following measures to ensure my recognition as the Mommy of The Day (MTD):
MTD action #1–When he started fussing and writhing, I assumed he was just being difficult, and might have told him as much.
MTD action #2–When I realized that he actually needed to burp, I rolled my eyes and began to raise him to sitting.
MTD action #3–Halfway through the transition I saw that he was actually beginning to spit up a little. So, not wanting him to dirty the large, expensive, hard-to-clean comforter on our bed, I kept him slightly reclined and hoped that he would just swallow (which, in my defense, he has in the past accomplished). Do you think he paused his fuss to take a breath and swallow blithely? No, he did not. Instead, he aspirated a bit of what was in his mouth and proceeded to choke and hack and make various other shocking noises, complete with watering eyes and extended tongue.
Listening for the CPS knock on my door, I quickly brought him to the full, upright and locked position and asked his forgiveness while administering a vigorous back pat (and feeling about for the burp cloth). I told him that I deserved for him to go ahead and empty the entire contents of his stomach (and my feeding units) all over the bed, that I wouldn’t be mad at him if he did that. But instead of giving me my…er…just desserts, he simply looked at me all Jesus-y while he caught his breath, clearly so grateful to me for comforting him while he choked.
It was really very swell of him. Can’t you see the sunbeams traipsing through his halo?:
P.S. While sitting on my lap as I proofread the above, Leif just puked all down him and myself, followed by a seriously cute smile. Ah well, I suppose that’s what I get for letting him read this…