and so it continues...

Yesterday morning I thought things were better. That my dear boy was more himself. Disregarding Scott's comments about how "he seemed warm to me yesterday, but the fight to take his temperature was horrible, so I gave up". But as the afternoon progressed I couldn't deny the flushed cheeks, the irritable, malcontent whine of a boy that was not himself. I put him to bed last night with a second dose of motrin in him, praying the night would provide rest to fight whatever it was he was fighting. At 4:30 I heard him cry. And while I usually give him a few minutes to find his way back to sleep, I just can't do that when he's sick. Glad I didn't wait. He had vomited in his bed. It wasn't much, but enough to plague his mama with worry. We laid on the couch together, watching Ratatouille (seriously, I'm LOVING that movie. It's so darn cute. I actually laugh out loud at it) eating Ezekiel bread and forcing him to sip his water. An hour later he falls asleep on me and so I put him to bed.

He awoke this morning at 8:30, still whiny, but in a "I'm hungry and want it right now" whine. His fever had broke and I was relieved.

Here we are several hours later, and after a call to the nurse, his fever is back. He has an appetite and has been downing lots of liquids (thankfully!) but he's just not well. I think it's time to call the nurse again. Ugh.

I so wanted to enjoy this blustery wintry day. The drizzly rain, the mournful rainy music on pandora, editing and enjoying the big fluffy rain clouds out my window. So I will, while he sleeps, as long as I possibly can.

During the brief time this morning when I thought we were on the up and up, he enjoyed his first box of crayons. Okay, actually they're his daddy's box of crayons. I think he has had them since before we were married. Henry patiently would pull one or two or several out. Inspect them. Put them back. Pull out more. So cute to observe. I love this boy. How much he's growing. How much he's developing. And while the bad days have out numbered the good of late, the good moments far surpass the bad.