I sit here listening to a symphony of coughs and splutters. My eyes are aching. Ori has conjunctivitis and I think I may be getting it too. While M thought that getting ‘drips” in her eyes was so much fun and lay there loving the experience, O is a little feisty tiger. Even with Itay and I working together, we cannot get his eyes open to administer the drops. Instead I have to drip them on and then run my (clean) finger across his eyelids, hoping some liquid will penetrate and help his infection. They are really quite bad.
This sickness, this sick sick sick that has been kicking our butts since about August last year has finally made me want to run and hide. I’m sick of it. I really am. It makes me want to cry.
Selfishly, it has made me looks a hundred years older than I really am. I am covered in horrible festering pimples and I am constantly, forever tired. I look grey and hideous. My hair is lank and oily, my skin is dull and revolting. My days are spent wiping snot. I kid you not – the largest gap between festy illnesses has been three weeks.
Today I spent some of our very precious few dollars on some natural remedies to combine with “modern” medicine to help boost the little boy’s immune system. We have to do something. Anything.
We also have an appointment with a pediatrician to consult about O’s tiny tininess. He’s tiny, did I mention that? He’s not on the charts for weight and he is under the 3rd percentile for length and head circumference. 95% of me knows he is OK, the other 5% just needs to know it.
Little baby boy loves to climb. Cleverly, he has taught himself how to climb down safely! We spent a long time showing M how to turn around, bottom first, climb down safely. O just learnt all by himself, turns himself around and then edges his way down, until his tiny feet touch the ground. Deliciously cute and oh so clever, smarty tiny pants boy!