When Max tipped over this morning while he was sitting on the bed watching me brush my teeth, I didn't think anything of it. A minute or two later, when I noticed he was completely asleep, I laughed and figured I was being blessed by the Gods of sleep since we have had such a rough week. When Max fell asleep on my lap during the girls swimming lessons, I knew we had something else cooking. Him, to be exact. At a nice toasty temperature of 103.5.
I'm not a panicky freak out mom when it comes to my kids' illnesses. More often than not, I let a fever run its course, and its typically over and done in a day or two. I'm not a germaphobe, and I'm definitely not a neat freak. However, that's all changed when it comes to Max and his crazy long health history. When I saw his temperature it was all I could do to not rush him to the pediatrician right then.
The good news is, he's still acting relatively normal. The last time he spiked a fever and we were readmitted to the hospital, he was crying inconsolably, and nothing would make him happy. Today he just been a little whiny, a little clingy (this translates roughly into him screaming bloody murder every time I leave the room!) and very sleepy. So as of right now, I'm repeating the mantra "Its just a virus" over and over again, and hoping against hope that we can weather this one without yet another trip to the hospital.
And for crying out loud, can't my poor little boy catch a break?