It’s officially autumn

You know fall has arrived when everybody gets sick. Well, it’s here for the Eiche household. Yesterday morning, Namine woke up from a nightmare at about 6 in the morning. As if that were not bad enough, she also woke up with the croup. You know, it’s kind of funny. We’d gone to church the…

You know fall has arrived when everybody gets sick. Well, it’s here for the Eiche household. Yesterday morning, Namine woke up from a nightmare at about 6 in the morning. As if that were not bad enough, she also woke up with the croup. You know, it’s kind of funny. We’d gone to church the night before in anticipation of being able to sleep in. Just goes to show you, you can make all the plans in the world, but you can never predict anything. Of course, we know that better than most.

I took her outside for a while, calming her down with singing and rocking. When she was calm and breathing more easily, I brought her back inside. She refused to go back to sleep, and all three of us spent the rest of the day a little tired. Namine herself was crabby off and on, but I can understand that. Later that morning, we took her to the Urgent Care clinic (since the pediatrician’s is closed on Sundays). We knew what to expect.

Since this was the Urgent Care clinic, of course the doctor had never seen Namine before. He expected that she would fight him at every turn, as I guess most kids do. Whatever; even though she was crabby, tired, and sick, she was still cooperative. She opened her mouth and said “Ahhhh”, she took a deep breath in and out while he listened to her lungs (something he didn’t even ask for – she just knows the routine), and she even let him look up her nose and in her ears.

Namine took the nurse by surprise, too. After the doctor took a look at her, he sent the nurse in to give her something to help with the croup. (It seems to be working, too; even though Namine has a cough today, it’s not croupy or barky.) When the nurse approached with the 1mL syringe, Namine reached for it. The nurse jerked it out of her hands, and snapped, “No! I have to give this to you.” I was holding Namine on my lap, and I said (more than a little testily), “Give her the syringe. She’ll take it herself.” The nurse looked at me like I was nuts. Jessica and I exchanged a glance. I knew we were both thinking the same thing: Yeah, what do I know? I’m only her PARENT.

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