The other night I was rocking out while watching the Foo Fighters perform at Wembley Stadium on the tele. (I'm still upset that I missed their last tour because I was 36 weeks pregnant. I would love to see them live before I die.) Jimmy was in another room listening to the Pack beat the Deacs on the radio because for some reason it wasn't televised. Katie was already in "bed," or what we now call bed, sleeping bag on her bedroom floor. I was waiting patiently to hear my most favorite of their songs, Everlong. They've changed it up a lot, lately, in that they hold off rocking that song hard until the end, whereas they normally rock the whole thing. You hear what I'm sayin? Dave Grohl goes acoustic right up until almost the very end when the whole band totally launches into this full out rockitude. It's awesome. He finally starts playing my song. I turn up the volume just enough so as not to disturb anyone. I get to hear the beginning of the acoustic jam, then someone gets out of "bed." Katie jumps out of her room and says, "Mommy, got to read me Farty Dog so I can go poo poo" and heads to the bathroom. Sigh. She takes after her father on so many levels.
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Maggie had her 4 month check up on Thursday. Despite her mild congestion, compliments of her sister coughing and sneezing directly in her face, she seems to be thriving. (I try to keep them apart when Katie is sick, like she normally is, but if you know Katie like I know Katie, it's quite difficult. She's a very in-your-face kinda gal. Seinfeld would call her a "close talker.") Maggie weighs 13 lbs., 11-1/2 oz. which puts her in the 55th percentile. She's 24-7/8 in. long, which is the 75th percentile (certainly not a trait she received from her mommy). Her head is 15-3/4 in., which is the 25th percentile (also not a trait received from her mommy). The doctor carefully examined Magpie, per Katie's persistent requests, "Be careful, Doctor."
Katie came along for this visit, skipping school and a Valentine's Day party, because she sounded pretty awful to me, coughing and sneezing all over the place and running a fever for two days. After Maggie had her turn with the doctor, Katie had hers. Again, Dr. Shoffner thinks Katie is hysterical. She never stops talking, and he even turned to me at one point, laughing out loud, to say "Her vocabulary is so good!" Then he said, "Hmm, which one keeps you busier?" I wonder.
Anyway, I wish doctors had some sort of magical gift to predict when a cold was going to get better or worse. After last night, I feared that I took her to the doctor one day too early. Katie kept me up all night coughing, sneezing, and whining, all while babyface and prosecutie snored in dreamland. I felt badly for her because there really wasn't anything I could give her to make her feel better or to help her sleep. The fever is gone, but the cold still persists. What can you give a three year old to help them breathe through a cold? Everything over the counter is for four years and up. I know it's got to run its course. Meanwhile, we'll miss a play date so she doesn't contaminate others, but I'll have to endure the dramatic whoas all day long, solo.
At least my mother-in-law is coming to save the day on Saturday, the lovely St. Valentine's Day (and more than likely catch a cold all for herself), so that the prosecutie I spoke of previously and I can have a night out to celebrate our love making which invariably produced such dramatic whoas, you know the kind that last a lifetime!
