Max is at respite this weekend- he’s gone to the caravan with his lovely other family. As a treat I thought I would book tickets for the zoo for Saturday for the little ones as an end of summer treat. I should know better than to book anything. It’s Popples last week at nursery before she starts nursery school in 2 weeks, Oliver is back on Monday- big year 1! So on Tuesday I get a phone call from nursery saying Popples isn’t well, running a fever and crying. She’s not a crier. And she was ok when I dropped her off. So I went to pick her up and sure enough she is hot as hell. Great, last week in nursery and she’s going to miss it. She has recovered well, don’t know what it was, Calpol a cool and soothe on her head, wrapped up on the sofa, lots of sleep and she’s back to her normal self so she can go in and say goodbye (with cake) on Friday. Huzzah! I hear you cry. But wait, not to be outdone by his sister, Olly comes down with the same thing the next day. Higher temp, floppy, and not wanting anything- I made the mistake of offering him a drink, and got a tearful wobbler for my trouble.
He let me, after a few minutes of persuasion and showing how I do Popples ears, finally take his temperature and at just over 39 degrees I knew it was time to poison him. Well if you saw his reaction, the screaming, thrashing, scratching in self defense you would be forgiven for thinking I was trying to kill him, but it is actually strawberry flavoured liquid paracetamol especially designed for children. Brings down temperatures, and soothes aches and pains. It comes with an oral syringe for ease. Yep so easy. No mess, just squirt (or dribble) into the mouth and most kids swallow it no problem. Oliver on the other hand, does not care for the syringe, or teaspoon or juice with it hidden in. Once you have him in position, legs and arms restricted you can actually get the syringe into his mouth. Now over the years he has developed various techniques for getting it back out and I thought I had got all angles covered. Yesterday I checked his mouth and could see nothing so thought it had been swallowed. Silly me. Of course he hadn’t, he’d somehow stored it in his throat and when I released him it got sprayed (literally) everywhere. I’d seen him swallow so don’t know how he’d done it. It is also the stickiest substance known to man, which is really great when me, him the sofa has been sprayed with the stuff. Anyway after much sweating, and soothing words and restricted limbs, I managed to get some into him, and his temp did come down. I also had to ask his dad to pick up another bottle on his way home from work- we buy generic now at half the price.
So he has his favourite dvd’s in a pile and is sat under the “poorly blanket”. It’s almost time for the next dose, and I hate it. I hate that I can’t explain it will make him feel better, I hate that he won’t look at me afterwards, I hate that he runs away shouting “no mummy”. I hope that he will one day understand, Max took years to understand “much better” but now he does I can dress wounds, give him meds and apply creams to his eczema. I’m hoping he is well enough for the zoo and well enough for his new term. His immune system is not as robust as his sisters and the lack of sleep doesn’t help either. I don’t know if offering a smoothie after his poison is just asking for trouble. Ah well I like to live dangerously!! Medicine time- I just hope the neighbours don’t call social services 😉