A few days ago, I would have said that parenting is hell because the kids were giving me hell. Constantly. And my mother seems to think that one night a year is a reasonable reprieve.
The night before last? I would have told you that parenthood is hell because there's nothing else that can make a person worry the way that kids can.
I'm spoiled--my kids are, for the most part, ridiculously healthy. Especially the little one. He's got the immune system of a friggin dragon or something.
Which is why I was quite surprised to be woken up at midnight by him crying bloody murder because his head hurt, and had a fever of 104.
He proceeded to freak me out even more by taking a drastic trip away from coherence and deciding to start laughing nonsensically in the middle of crying.
I spent about an hour on sleep. Come the morning, I had to cancel my chiropractic appointment (something my body is quite unhappy with), and haul the little guy to urgent care.
Interestingly, in the way that kids do what they do, he actually looked alive as soon as we walked through the door. They sent us home with no clue because he had a notable lack of any other symptoms besides fever. So we hope that it quits reoccurring before Wednesday.
Yep, parenting is definitely fifty shades of hell.