Yesterday I was starting to feel better. My fever had broken, and although I was a little loopy (don't believe me? Read my last post. Holy cow, it's a little odd.) I was feeling good. I found the original version of Annie on OnDemand and put it on for the kids. I thought Emma would love it, and she did. She sat on the couch and did not move for the entire movie. This is very unusual for any of my kids to sit still for more than a few minutes, so after and hour I went over to check on her and she was burning up. Oh yeah, 102.8*. Wowsers.
I let her stay on the couch all day, she watched Annie three times. I must say, I was shocked at some of the language there. Miss Hannigan, who is played by Carol Burnett, is a little tramp and says some really suggestive things. I do not remember this as a kid, of course, since it is all over a child's head, but I could not believe what I was hearing. It's amazing what they got away with in the era of supposed innocence.
Drew has been fussy, and the combo of my antibiotics and his thrush medication is making him cranky and wanting to eat to calm him. Unfortunately, the combo of my cold and the mastitis has drained me so that I am not making as much milk. The combo of a baby who wants more and a mommy who has less is not going well.
I am doing what I can to increase my milk supply. I am going to drink a gallon of water today, and try to eat as much good food as possible. I know I need rest as well, so I made the attempt to go to bed at 10:30 last night. Mr. Drew continued to fuss off and on pretty late. No sleep for me, but at least I had the chance to finish the book I was reading, so I didn't mind. Luckily, I was still awake at 1:15 to hear the first, quiet "Mommy, Daddy!" coming from Emma's room, which meant I was able to get there in time to catch most of her throw up before she covered all her bedding. She as sleeping in a tent on her floor, so I was grateful for the lack of throw upon the tent itself. We got her cleaned up, properly consoled and moved into her bed. I fed Drew again and at 1:52 tried to sleep. It was not the sleep that brings about rest, however, because in my slumber I dreamed of Emma continuing to throw up and me continuing to clean her up and move her into clean sleeping areas.
I felt a tickle on my arm. In my semi-asleep state, still thinking I was cleaning up Emma, I brushed it off, and felt that horrid feeling that jolts you awake faster than almost anything else. The feeling of something there, something squishing between your hand and your arm. I managed to turn the light on to find a half squished earwig. I personally think earwigs are the creepiest of all the house-dwelling insects, and to have one crawling up my arm in my own bed, making it's way toward my face and my EAR freaked me out. I still shudder thinking of it. It was 2:08 am, so I had slept for 16 minutes thus far. I used hand sanitizer on my hand and the arm on which he had travelled and lay there wondering, do earwigs travel in packs? Was he the lead earwig, exploring the unfamiliar terrain, while his little pack of follower earwigs were hanging out by my toes waiting for the go-ahead from their devoted leader, who, unbeknownst to them, had not survived the journey? Would there be an earwig retaliation in the night, where the earwigs attack me and crawl up my nose and in my ears?
Fine. I checked all the bedding to make sure he was alone. And from what I could tell in my attempt to calm my nerves while not waking my husband or my son who had FINALLY drifted off to a peaceful sleep, he was a lonely earwig. I lay in bed, trying to sleep, and scratching every imagined tickle I felt for quite a while.
The last time I saw the clock, it was 3:14. Finally, sleep, glorious sleep. Drew awoke to eat, and I brought him into bed with me without waking up, it seems. Then I heard a noise that I did not know what it was, but once again, it freaked me out. It was coming from the floor on my side of the bed, and it was a little scritch, scratch, thump like a small animal on the carpet. We have had mice in our house before, (go HERE to read that story) so I was promptly alert. I looked at the clock. 6:18. However, I did not want to look over the edge of the bed, I think denial can sometimes be better. The scritching and scratching did not stop, and I started to imagine an army of mice attempting to climb my bed skirt to make me realize that earwigs are not the worst thing to crawl on you in the night. I finally looked. Our stupid cat was trying to kill a poor, defenseless q-tip. Throwing it around, batting at it with his claws on our berber carpet, you know, all the things people like to have a cat do, especially at six in the morning.
Since I was feeding Drew, I had to wake Marty up to put the cat out. We had left our door open to hear Emma if she needed us, and had forgotten to shut our bathroom door to keep the cat out of the garbage. He likes to steal q-tips and eat the cotton off the tops. What can I say, our cat is just as crazy as the rest of us.
I did not get back to sleep after that but Marty, wonderful man that he is, has offered to let me sleep in till noon tomorrow of I need to. I am adding this here to put it in writing, so that he cannot back out of his offer, even if his offer was made in the wee hours this morning while he was delirious from sleep deprivation.
Well, it took me three hours to type this post. I'm going to go drink some water and attempt a nap. Watch for next week's Not Me! Monday! I'm sure it's going to be a good one!