This week is one of those weeks I wish I could build an impenetrable force field around Owen and keep him in that safe little bubble. For two reasons.
1. The petri dish that is daycare is overflowing with germs. Today when I signed Owen in, there was a sheet on the counter that said “We have had 3 cases of hand, foot and mouth, 7 cases of high fever and 2 cases of the stomach bug this week. Please remember to wash your hands to stop the spread of germs.” There aren’t more than 12 kids in his class, so either everyone except him is sick, or some kids are counted more than once in that tally. Oy vey.
For those of you who were reading back when Owen first started daycare, you know that we had about 6-12 months when he was pretty much sick with something every day. Between his recurring pneumonia and respiratory issues, unusual propensity for high fevers and ear infections, combined with his rash-prone skin, we were pretty much seeing the doctor weekly. But! In the last few months he’s had little more than an ear infection or two. Perhaps that year of illness made his immune system iron-clad, as he has since escaped several bouts of stomach bugs and various other illnesses that tore through his classroom with only a runny nose. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not getting cocky. I know they could still strike at any moment! But at least that “year of the sickies” makes me feel like we can make it through just about any illness now, since we’ve done it before.
Except the stomach bug. He’s never gotten the stomach bug. For being a kid who pukes so regularly from being car sick, he has never thrown up from an upset stomach. That’s pretty much the final frontier of sickness we have not yet faced.
2. He is acting like a total pill. I don’t know if it’s an impending illness, or the teething I thought I identified last week, or something else entirely… something is up.
The last few days he has been acting totally out of character. Wailing and crying at the drop of a hat. Reacting aggressively to small infractions with hitting and pushing and throwing. Whining and sniffling and clinging to me like I might leave him forever when I really just need 5 minutes to throw dinner in the oven. Pushing himself away from the table and shouting, “I’m ALL DONE!” before even taking a bite of food. Waking up crying from naps and reverting back to early mornings when he had been sleeping in until after 7am.
I haven’t yet figured out exactly what is up, but MAN it is exhausting. For all of us.