Grits and Purls

Spinning yarns about the grit of life

This weekend has been one of those that can drive a parent nuts. Our daughter has a cold. Yesterday, in spite of her sniffles, I took her to dance class, but I wondered when she insisted upon keeping her parka on during class. I wondered even more when she sat in the corner, away from the other giggly girls during the creative movement part of the class, and by the end of class her glassy, tired brown eyes had me second guessing my “it’s just a cold” diagnosis.

When we returned home she had no fever but no appetite either. In my mind, I debated a trip to urgent care. Why can’t these things happen during the week?

A little ibuprofen though, and 20 minutes later, she was fine, although still not eating, she was drinking apple juice heartily and laughing and giggling.

Then came bed time. She was tired. There were tears while we brushed teeth. There were tears on the potty. There were tears when she picked her stories. And, she was asleep before the first story was finished.

Last night there was no rest for Mom and not much more for Dad. I had to start alternating acetaminophen with ibuprofen for the pain (although there was still no fever). I had to help with nose-blowing. We plumped up the pillows, arranged and rearranged the blankets and put an ice pack on the side where the ear hurt. We both slept in fits and starts.

The trip we had planned to Grandma and Papa’s this morning was cancelled. And the children’s decongestant came down from the shelf one more time for another try. I debated once again a trip to urgent care.

“Can we go to Grandma and Papa’s now?”

“No. Today we rest.”

There was much protest and more tears, but we rested. She even volunteered for a nap around lunch time, something that is simply unheard of on weekends in our house these days.
After nap, she complained again of earache. So more ibuprofen and decongestant were administered, and I resolved that tomorrow would be a sick day.

Twenty minutes later however she bounded into the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay, what do you want?”


She ate the whole can. Later, we played rainforest in the bathroom, and took a nice hot, steamy bath. I knew I had my little girl back when, with a sparkle in her chocolate brown eyes, she asked, “Can I have a treat now?”

I debated again. Maybe all she needed was a little help from the decongestant. Maybe tomorrow won’t be a sick day after all. Maybe we have licked this cold. Maybe I’ve made the right decisions. Maybe symptomatic relief and rest were all that were required.

Then she ran up to me holding a tissue, “Mommy, look what just came out of my ear.”

“Lovely.” I thought as I looked at the goo on the tissue. “A ruptured ear drum.”

I’m sure she feels better now, with the pressure from the congestion temporarily relieved.

She’s peppering Daddy with questions about the workbench he is building, begging us for extra time to stay up and play, running up and down the stairs.

She is now a picture of an energetic little girl.

Well, at least there is no more debating, now that she feels better, tomorrow we go to the doctor.

© 2012 Michele Arduengo. All rights reserved.

One thought on “A Picture of Health

  1. Why is it that always happens…we debate and question ourselves and then when we finally decide to make a trip to outpaitents our little ones start bouncing around. I’m so happy she is feeling better but you are certainly doing the right thing having a doctor look at her ear.

    By the way, if it makes you feel any better–I just went to the doctor today and I’ve been quite miserable since just after New Year’s….some of us never learn!

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