It’s a Marshmallow World
Three things happened to me in the sixth grade:
- I got a bra;
- I won the school spelling bee (HOLLA!), only to lose the county bee on the word “irrelevant,” if you can believe that cock-ass bullshit. The girl before me had “dinosaur.” WHAT THE FUCK;
- I had to sing “It’s a Marshmallow World” in the school holiday choral concert at the local mall.
And you’d better believe I wore my IRRELEVANT BRA to the concert, oh yes I did.
I only really remember one verse to the song, but every time it snows (and I mean EVERY time), that godforsaken song gets stuck in my head. Driving to work in a blizzard? “It’s a marshmallow world in the winter…” Shoveling the sidewalk? “…when the snow comes to cover the groooouuund…” Arm snapping in half as my car careens on a sheet of ice into a snow bank?
“In winter it’s a marshmallow world!”
So you can just guess what song was running through my my ALL FUCKING WEEKEND as we weathered our first substantial snowfall of the season. I spent the weekend happily homebound, as I love nothing more than staying put and staying cozy when it’s snowy out. Oh, also? Sadie and Brad were both sick. AGAIN. So, you know, there was that.
[I was going to insert an image here, but instead I offer this PSA: Do not ever Google image search “plague.” DO NOT.]
Sadie has been coughing on and off throughout the fall, but over the past week it had gotten pretty nasty-sounding, and whenever she got worked up or cried, she sounded a little wheezy.
No, not like that.
When she hadn’t shown any signs of improvement by Friday, we decided to take her in to the pediatrician’s office. It was then we learned from Friendly Nurse Practitioner Brenda that Sadie has RSV,* which – from what I can tell – is basically the day care version of kennel cough. We were sent away with a prescription for Albuterol and instructions to page the doctors if she developed a temperature at any point over the weekend.** When we asked about the side effects of Albuterol (which is basically the stuff they put in asthma inhalers), Brenda said, “It’ll increase her heart rate for a while, and it might make her a little wily.” Wily, huh? Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.
Spoiler alert: IT WAS BAD.
While it was true that the Albuterol did improve her breathing and make the wheezing disappear, Internet, it was like I gave my child a gallon of espresso and a few rails of blow. It was like someone came into my house at 6:45pm and replaced my sleepy, eye-rubbing baby with fucking Lindsay Lohan.
The first couple of hours (!!) weren’t so bad, as Sadie was in good spirits and seemed to be enjoying the high. But then, around 9pm, she started to realize how tired she was. And then she realized how her poor little wired up self was not going to let her relax. And then she realized it would be prudent to scream and cry for about 45 minutes.
I am happy to report that her subsequent reactions to the medicine haven’t been as extreme. Although on Saturday morning she got really, really, RILLYRILLYRILLY excited about helping Brad build her bookcase:
And then, there was the inevitable crash:
I’m just going to sit here with my eyes closed for a secondZZZZZZZZ…
This morning, the wheezing was almost completely gone, so I’m hoping that means the end of Albuterol, Baby’s First Cocaine.
Marshmallow world, indeed.
*It should be noted that I have not read that link (or ANY link) about RSV, because I am sure that 5.6 seconds into my internet research I’d find some story (told by the ubiquitous anonymous message board commenter) about how OMG my baby had RSV and had to depend on an iron lung for the rest of his life and then our house caught fire and all the puppies died and happiness was extinguished forever.
**So, yesterday evening? During the Steelers game? Sadie spiked a little temp, and being the dutiful, directions-following assholes we are, we paged the pediatrician – our lovely, wonderful pediatrician who is always so patient and attentive with Sadie. He called us back with THE BIGGEST FUCKING ATTITUDE on the face of the planet. When Brad asked him if we should go ahead and give her Motrin (we had just given her the Albuterol), Dr. AssyPants said, all snippy, “You can if you want. That’s really a management call on your part. ” Uh, NO, it’s a fucking MEDICAL call on YOUR part, seeing as how you’re the pediatrician, assholio, and YOU TOLD US TO CALL. I mean, what the fuck was up his ass? Was it because we called during the game? Because we’re some hardcore Steelers fans, but SHIT. We are now considering looking for another pediatrician.
Anyone know if he’s taking new patients?
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.