For so many people 2007 went out with a bang. A party. Streamers, confetti and drinks. At the very least there was a quiet moment as the ball dropped in Time Square. Not so here in the Grayson household. Ours was more of a phhbtt sort of noise.
Ashton had been sick with a nagging cough for about 2 weeks when I decided to take him to the doctors. Not what I had scheduled for Christmas Eve but I had apparently forgotten to show Ashton what I had planned so it was my fault. Double ear infection was the diagnosis and tasty pink medicine the cure. Ashton was thrilled. Yummy pink "mu" twice a day. The girls were jealous. "Mom, I have a bad cough (cough, cough, choke, choke sounds here). I need some medicine." Nice try!
So dawns New Years Eve day with all it's promises of "out with the old and in with the new". That day where you can contemplate all that the past year has brought and all the things the New Year might bring. That exciting day when you get to sit around thinking about how tomorrow you will get to write 2008 on your checks instead of 2007. New Years Eve has it all really. The past, present and future all rolled up into one glorious day of sunshine. (A little carried away?)
Well, our New Years Eve day began like all others. We ate, we played, and Brock went to work. He called me on his way home and I began to tell him how great our morning had been but how Ashton was having a rough afternoon. During my iterations Ashton began to cry. I, of course, ignored him. I was on the phone and he was not being pleasant. He cried a little harder and I ignored a little more. He began to REALLY cry and I told Brock I should go. "I just don't know what his problem is the afternoon" I told Brock. I sent Brock my love, hung up the phone, and turned to Ashton. He had vomited all over himself. Well, there goes my mother of the year award. So close and yet so far away.
You know, as a mom I feel as if I should be able to handle any difficulty. Any nasty that may come my way. After all, isn't that what mom's do? Do we not handle all those things that others cringe at? Well, to be honest I didn't see the vomit coming. "Now what do I do?" I thought. I really should comfort him, but ... yuck. So I did what - I hope - all moms have done at one time or another. I put on rubber gloves to touch my son. I just couldn't bring myself to do it any other way. So there I was, rubber gloves pulled up to my elbows, hands in the air, approaching my sick son. Compassion is my middle name. To prove this I striped him naked right there in his chair and carried him, held out in front of me, to the bath.
In my defense, once he was clean I cuddled and cuddled him. I even called Brock and told him he was on for dinner prep. I believe we ate out that night.
New Years day and the day after were much like New Years Eve. I sat and cuddled. On Saturday it became clear he was not going to get over the fever himself so we went BACK to the doctors. Double ear infection and the beginnings of pneumonia. Not what I was wanting to hear. It had been a really rough week. Ashton had gotten sick a couple more times. He wouldn't eat or drink very much. He wouldn't play and NEVER (I really can't stress NEVER enough here) wanted to be put down. He didn't just want to be held. He wanted to be held while I walked singing his favorite tunes and rubbing his back. Well, don't we all want that? He cried all the time. It was, for me, a revisitation of the first 5 months of his life when he would cry non-stop for hours at a time.
So there I was, sitting in the doctor’s office with my crying son getting ready to do a "breathing treatment". For those of you who have never experienced the first breathing treatment, it is a thing of pure agony. Ashton couldn't breath as easily as he was used to and I wanted to put a mask on his face.
Let me take a minute here to explain my thoughts on evolution and Darwinism. People generally don't like to have things on their faces. Especially when they are already having a hard time breathing. Natural instinct kicks in when mouth and nose are covered simultaneously. Those people who do not have this inclination are dead. It is called survival of the fittest - or brightest. Evolution. Darwinism.
Ashton has evolved. He kicked and screamed. My little 1-year-old baby had super human strength. I could barely hold him let alone keep the mask on his face. He turned multiple colors and contorted himself in ways I didn't think were possible. It was the longest 20 minutes of my life. By the end we were both crying and sweating profusely. It is at this point the doctor reappeared looking sympathetically at my face. "They usually don't like the first time" she told me. "Don't like?” I thought. That has got to be the understatement of the year and it is only Jan 5th.
After all was said and done I took my son, his breathing machine, diaper bag, paper work, masks and tubing, and keys and left for home. I know I blew mother of the year in 2007 but I really feel as if I am in the running for 2008. If there is one thing I have learned from all the presidential candidates it is that you can never begin self-promoting too early.
To end this too long blog. Ashton is now doing well. He is still on his antibiotics but he no longer has to do the breathing treatments. (The doctor was right. He really only hated the first treatment. He tolerated all the rest fairly well.) His lungs are clear and he is my happy little boy again.
Here is Ashton feeling better and eating spaghetti.
