BTM (Before The Mushroom) I used to ask myself on regular occasion, is there anything worse than a sick male? BTM the answer was an irrefutable no. After the Mushroom, I know now better. The answer is yes, there is something worse than a sick male and that is a sick male child. Or baby, in this case.
During our trip away the poor little Mushroom caught himself a little cold. Not surprising really considering the planes, trains and automobiles we were travelling upon, as well as the change in weather, new environment, didn't like his socks... honestly, I think my boy may be just a tiny bit precious...
So there we are, all shacked up at my sister's place, enjoying the cooler climes, and having a grand old time when someone starts coughing a little bit. Cough, cough, cough. Oh really? We're not paying enough attention to you are we? I put another layer on him and think nothing more of it. We are out and about all day and he seems fine, sleeps for ages in the pram, doesn't whinge whilst we're trooping about the city all day, behaves on the train and then even has an afternoon sleep when we get back to the house.
We decide to go out to the local pizza parlour for dinner that evening and whilst he does feel a little warm, the Mushroom seems to be in good spirits. He decimates a piece of garlic bread at dinner and co-operates in the highchair long enough for us to eat and enjoy our dinner. This behaviour at home is unheard of and I'm thinking we need to go on holiday more often so the Juffin and I can venture out past 7pm!
We get back to sister's, do the shower and bed thing and somewhere between bedtime and 10pm a gremlin takes the place of my son and all hell breaks loose. There's crying, there's screeching (see previous post re cockatoo), there's tears and snot, he's hungry but he won't feed properly and keeps thrashing his head around, he's clearly exhausted but won't calm down enough to sleep, and all I can hear is the wheezing, wheezing, wheezing of a blocked nose and a congested chest. It's awful for the poor little man and it sounds just awful.
He's up every 1-2 hours crying and at one point, in my sleepless haze, I remember that I did pack the baby panadol and break it out. After fighting with him for 40 minutes we manage to get the required dosage down his throat and he finally drifts off between us in our bed. This is on the other side of 4 am and my eyes are burning. I grab as much sleep as I can, probably close to 3 hours tops, and start wondering if we should go out to the concert that night after all. Is there some sort of bad parenting award that I'll win if we attend the concert of one of our favourite bands that we've wanted to see for 16 years and spent hundreds of dollars on travel to do so whilst our child is sick at home?! Probably. But we decide to go to the concert. Because that's what we travelled there to do.
During the day the Mushroom bucks up and is in pretty fine form. We hit the shops and I have an apple crumble cupcake which has me bouncing off the walls. We attempt to get some shut eye by having an afternoon nap but I'm unable to sleep due to my usual inner monologue running a continuous talkback in my head and I start having doubts about going to the concert. Again. My sister reassures me that everything is fine... Basically she tells me to shut up, get dressed and piss off. It's refreshing and I feel better. I know that she's more than capable of handling the Mushroom and if I wasn't so tired I'd be super excited for our night out.
The beers we drink before the concert are amazing. The two bourbons I decide to have after the beer are even better. At one point I text my sister to check in and she tells me that both the kids are in bed and she's enjoying a beer. I text her again in another hour and she tells me to bugger off and enjoy myself. Hooray! I'm not sure if it's the four alcoholic drinks I've had combined with the lack of sleep but it's got to be the funniest text message I've ever received! Woo! I am buzzing! This was what drinking was like when I was 15! When we enter the convention centre to take our seats, I can't even be bummed that we're in the nosebleed section. It's just too awesome that we're even here, that I don't even care! Finally, after all these years, we see Tool. And they are un-fucking-believable! Juffin and I are so stoked, we can't stop grinning at each other. It was better than I could have ever imagined.
Blame the first proper taste I've had of alcohol in 18 long months, or the lack of sleep, but I am on cloud nine. I don't even mind walking home in the rain. We get to sister's house and I can't stop blabbing about how awesome it was. The lights, the sound, Maynard's voice... blah blah blah. She informs me that the Mushroom has just had a bottle so should be set for the night. I'm so happy, hooray!
I manage to remove the 2kg of black eyeliner (mandatory eyewear for a tool concert) and red lipstick and sink gratefully into bed, ears still ringing and the first signs of headache creeping on but I just don't care. As I close my eyes, I smile quietly to myself and think that life can't get much better than this when I hear a sound from the end of the room... someone is awake, and crying, again. So up I get. Again. That moment of solitude was short lived, but at least I got that! Ahh, the joys of parenthood!
|Post garlic bread - Pre Gremlin|
My sister is awesome. If you have small children then you will understand what an important role your family plays by acting as free babysitters/caregivers/shoulders to cry on/chefs/cleaners/counsellors... honestly the list goes on. I would be lost without my sister and my Mum along with my many awesome and helpful friends!