Fever Update *Updated*

Shane woke up this morning cranky, but some Advil in his bottle made for a quiet start to the day. Other than the fever, I would've assumed nothing was wrong.

Nap time came early. Shane was falling asleep in his high chair as I tried to feed him. It was almost an hour early, but there's no fighting a baby that sleepy. I laid Shane down and went to take a break. Thirty-five minutes later Shane woke up crying his little heart out.

I tried all the usual winners. I brought a bottle, held him quietly, sang, and eventually brought him outside when I realized nap time was done. Shane cried more. I called the doctor and set up an appointment while holding a vocally distraught Shane.

Thank God for garage door openers!

We sat in the garage for the next fifteen minutes watching the door go up and down. I worked up a sweat just standing there, but a happy baby is a happy father. Once Shane forgot he was supposed to be crying, I let him run around outside for a while. He was still cranky and not feeling well, but it was a huge improvement from nonstop crying.

Eventually, I tricked him inside and tried to dose him with an Advil bottle. Phineas and Ferb were across the 2nd Dimension and Shane zoned in and sucked up part of the laced milk. He was calm by the time his appointment came around. Carrie and I had the discussion "If this is his ears again, we're going to an ENT straight away."

Shortest appointment ever.

The doctor walked in. She talked. She looked in his ears. She poked around.

Nada.

No infection, no localized pain, no nothing. Her advice? Keep the Advil flowing.

Thank God for garage door openers and Advil!

It's no fun with a sick baby, but its nice to have done this song and dance before. I planned to skip the doctor when Shane was happy in the morning. If Carrie had a screaming baby for that long way back when, she would've been weaving through traffic on her way to the hospital. Now, she's a syringe master and can pump Shane full of meds whether he likes it or not.

UPDATE:
Shane woke up from his 2nd nap of the day wailing again. I started down my repertoire of tricks again, but nothing worked.

In a perfect world, Shane would've taken a bottle (with the meds hidden inside) or Carrie would've been home for help with the syringe.

In the word I live in, it was just me. Carrie was out teaching a riding lesson. Since Shane needed meds and he refused bottles, I had to use the syringe.

Nothing makes Shane less happy than coming in the house from out or sighting a medicine syringe. The boy was thrashing something fierce. With the medicine in his system, he feels fine. Without, he feels horrible. Regardless, he would rather die than cope with a few seconds of a syrupy bad taste (hopefully that gets better by the time he's married). I got 1/2 to 2/3 through the syringe before he swallowed wrong while screaming.

BLARRAHFLAHFHLFKSADHFHGHFHFHAFH!!!!

Pause.

BLARGHAFOUROFJFHFHFHALFHALFHAFFHFh *cough cough* BLARGHALFOAUFLAFLFLAF!

Blarf.

Bath time!

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE:
My master plan of having Shane barf up all of his stomach so that he'd be willing to take a bottle with medicine was a resounding success. Shane barfed. We bathed. The garage door worked it's magic (Thank God for garage doors) and then Shane willingly drank a bottle with meds and then a bigger bottle with straight up milk.

Phew!

The next step was to change my shirt. I'd collected some baby barf on it (which looks like cottage cheese btw). I opened the gate, so that Shane and I could crawl up. We raced up around the bend, Shane in the lead, Dada in caboose.

Halfway up the last set, Shane must have gotten some hair on one of his hands. Shane's solution? Hand to the mouth!

Bleh! That didn't work! It's funny how you can see a toddler's thought process play out on their face. I reacted and stopped him from shoving his first hand down his throat. I missed the second one.

BLARFHGF.

It was a quick and sudden urp-up. Shane's milk and meds dripped in a puddle on the stair before us. Rats.

Bath time!

UPDATE x3:
Carrie got home from horse lessons and we shot a couple ml of Advil in (team effort). The ER said we could give 7 ml, while the bottle says 5 ml. We try to always give 5 ml (since it works), but there was no telling how much medicine Shane actually had in his system. We figured overdosing a baby on Advil was no advisable.

UPDATE^4:
Shane woke up and there's no fever! Hopefully he's on the mend. Praise God, and thank you whoever invented automatic garage door openers.

Btw, these updates are all written after the fact. There was no way I had time to write these during the event, but I figure they make for funnier reading this way. Even when something crappy is happening, I try to detach myself a little and think "This will make for a hilarious story." It just goes with one of my philosophies "The best of times and the worst of times make the best stories. Even when you're going through crap, it can make for a great retelling later if you remember the details."