December!

It's December 1. DataBoy reminded me that it's time to get out the advent calendar. I *think* I was smart enough last year to put it away on the very top of the Christmas stuff, so I don't have to get out a shovel to find it in the little storage closet. Although, upon consideration, I think the shovel is also in that closet. Probably in the back.

I bought wrapping paper today while I was at Target. I do this every year, and I never use it all, so I have a bag (also in that same storage closet) with 18 rolls of 3/4-used wrapping paper. I don't have to buy "Santa" paper, because I don't have the kids for Christmas this year, but DataBoy informed me that he is "too old" for the stocking he's had since his first Christmas (which has a large stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh head on top). So I bought a new one for him, and, since he was insisting that Bamm-Bamm felt the same way he did about his own Pooh Head stocking, I got one for Bamm-Bamm, too. They're simple red felt, and they have the first initial of their first name on each one, and unless (or until) DataBoy changes his name to Agatha, they're not getting any more.

Oh, so I was at Target getting a couple of prescriptions filled for Bamm-Bamm. He woke up with a slight cough on Monday, which is nothing unusual for him; he pretty much keeps a cough from November through March. But the cough has gotten progressively worse, and yesterday, he was also sniffly. Being a Bad Mom, I sent him to school anyway, and was called not two hours later to come pick him up because he had a fever. Dammit...I KNEW I should have given him Tylenol before I sent him to school.

So he came home and napped, and didn't seem to be feeling THAT bad. I was hoping he'd feel better this morning after a day of rest at home, but no luck. His morning noises were weak, and he didn't want to move out of bed, and he still had a fever. So I schlepped DataBoy off to school and took Bamm-Bamm to the doctor.

Now, since he was about 18 months old, we've known there was something "wrong" with him. He went to doctor after doctor after doctor, and they pushed and prodded and poked and gave shots and drew blood...and he's gotten so he can smell a doctor visit two blocks away, and starts screaming accordingly. He screamed the whole time the doctor tried to touch him. She managed to get a pretty good listen with the stethescope, and looked in his ears, but he wouldn't let her near his mouth or nose (but it was a good enough look to diagnose bronchitis). Even after leaving, he whined all the way to Target from the trauma.

I called Dick to let him know what's going on with his kid, and his first questions are, "Will he still be contagious tomorrow? Are you sure you shouldn't just keep him at your house this weekend?" Well, let's see, I checked the visitation schedule, and it doesn't say anything about you being exempt from being their father when they're sick. So yeah, I'm pretty sure.

A teaspoon of Zithromax later, and Bamm-Bamm is conked out on the floor of the living room. I'm obviously keeping him home today. He may have to stay home tomorrow, in which case Zander, ever the Good Boyfriend, has volunteered to reprise his role as babysitter. The good news for Zander is that Bamm-Bamm doesn't eat much when he's sick.