Sick Vince Comes to the Archdiocese

Fever cheeks!

When I picked Vince up from daycare Thursday afternoon, he rushed over to hug me.  I was relieved since normally it's a fight to drag him away from his friends.

I should've known right then that something was amiss.

Vince doesn't typically cuddle with me anymore.  He's a rough and tumble little boy who likes to wrestle with daddy and throw balls and swing pretend swords.  Cuddles are reserved for saying sorry and being sick, and he wasn't saying sorry.

By the time I got to my mom's house for a visit, he was beginning to burn.  I was surprised by how quickly his temperature had risen.  We had been talking and laughing in the car the entire ride over.  Suddenly (and it really did seem like it was out of nowhere), he became tired and lethargic.  He just wanted to be cuddled up on my lap. 

I, of course, enjoy every second of the affection, but I also feel terrible that him being feverish is the price for those cuddles.  So instead of spending the evening with my mom and sisters, I bundled Vince back into the car and took him home to a cool bath, medicine and popsicles. 

When I took his temp after the bath and medicine, it was hovering around 102.5.  My poor little munch! 

He pleaded for "Mommy's bed" and I happily obliged.  I laid him next to me and patted his back until he fell asleep.  For as hot as his little body was, he kept trying to press himself into me, making sure as much of his body as possible was touching mine.  I wasn't sure if it was to comfort himself with my presence or to help his body cool down with my cooler body temperature. 

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They match!

Anyway, this morning I needed to get a few things done at work. I was in a quandary, though.  I had no access to a babysitter (or my
husband who is away right now) and no way to get the files I needed without going into work to get them.

Thus, around 9am, I took Vincent to work with me to pick them up.  We were only there to grab some paperwork, but he was super excited.  The boy loves elevators, and we've got three of them.  He was so proud of himself for pushing the right buttons and kept trying to get my coworkers just as pumped about elevators as he was.  Ha ha ha. 

After we left, I took him to grab sick-day essentials from the pharmacy.  Not exactly Chuck-E-Cheese, but we had fun.

When I got home, I made him some noodles for lunch since he had finally regained his appetite.  He was also drinking plenty of liquids, so I wasn't too concerned about his need for a pediatrician.  I put him down for a nap and tried to get some work done.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to access a site from home that would've helped me complete my task.  Thus, when Vince woke up from his nap, I checked his temp and made sure he was well enough to travel back to Philly.  He was in good spirits (though still hot) so I figured a quick trip to see Aunt Meg (my best friend's wife and current coworker) wouldn't be terrible.

Ugh - I was wrong.  I was so, so wrong.  He was being pretty well-behaved and was so happy to be out of the house, but pretty soon, seeing new people and new things, he was off-the-wall excited.  My coworkers probably thought I was making up that he had a fever because he was acting so... normal.  He did, however, have the tell-tale red patches that kids typically get when feverish. 

Anyway, Meg must've taken Vince on the elevators about a thousand times to give me time to barrel through some reports.  I was actually making pretty good time with those bad boys, too, but it was nearly impossible for me to get everything done as my attention was divided between Vince and the reports. 

I felt terrible.  I wanted so much to help the office get done what was needed, but I quickly realized I was likely making things worse by having Vince giving chase to just about everyone and everything.

That being said, my coworkers took it all in stride.  My boss, having a three year old, himself, was great with Vince.  I was surprised at how much Vince ended up liking him considering how stand-offish he was when he first met him.  On the way home, Vincent kept asking if we would be seeing "Sannon" again.  I'm not sure if he wanted to see "Sannon" so much as "Sannon's sord,"  (Shannon's sword) but it's nice to know Vince liked him enough to remember his name.  :)

I ended up relenting and realizing having an active little munch at work was a terrible idea, even if my intentions were good.  There was simply no way I would be able to get everything done without forcing Meg to forego her work, so I told Russ he'd get the reports first thing on Monday. 

Ah well.  I still feel guilty for not being able to get it all done, but Vince took priority on that one.  As soon as I realized I couldn't juggle both, he won out and I took his happy little butt home.  Of course the second we got home he was content to veg out in front of the TV for a bit (maybe the office running helped), but all in all I learned my lesson.  I won't be taking Vince into work with me ever again, no matter how much I am freaking out about a deadline. 

Gah.  Mom-guilt.  I feel like the hospital gives you a newborn and an invisible bag to carry all your inevitable guilt as you walk out post-partum.  *Grin* 

On the plus side, he's on the mend and his fever is finally back to double digits again.  Woo!

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