Poor Baby

You might think I'll be talking about Kathryn, nope it's all about me.
Forget the fact that she's been coughing up her lungs, grabbing her ear screaming there are ants in there, and running a 102 temperature all day. No this is about what the mother of a sick child endures. The fact that everything could have been so much easier if she'd just take some damn medicine! Not for lack of trying on my part, I actually think I did as good as one person could have done with her. We got maybe half of the strip and a quarter of her Tylenol chewable down before she spit it all out on the living room rug.
Poor me for being on the phone with the doctor's office six different times, giving the same information all six times, just wanting a little insight on what to do. Finally I get a call back at 4:45 saying that we can go to the after hours care at 7pm. This is about how bad my back hurts from carrying her around all day, for trips as small as one couch to the other, she has been human Velcro today. About how much my heart aches for her feeling so crummy, but really just needing a moments peace for myself.
It's about having to fill out all the same paperwork already on file AGAIN! If you haven't caught on, one of my biggest pet peeves is paperwork. And why is it that when we finally see the doctor, she acts as if nothing is wrong? I promise she is sick, Dr. Pooh Bear tie, just ask your nurse who heard her screaming on the phone earlier. I promise that she has been clinging and crying all day, even though she is sitting there contently checking out her bear with your stethoscope. Yes there is an ear infection and yes there is chest congestion, and here's three prescriptions to get her to feeling better. And no you can't give them all to her at the same time, because we believe in prolonging your medicine administering torture. Really, can't we just give her a shot, that's where I am right now. And having to wait another hour to pick up the miracle drugs when both Kathryn and I are ready to drop dead to bed.
On a lighter note, poor me for the seat in my car. The wonderful, electronic driver's seat that is now stuck on my husband's setting. He's 6'5", I'm a lot shorter, it's really been a humorous and painful drive today. I expect an equally humorous and painful event at the dealership tomorrow, with a clinging Kathryn and a pink amoxycillin stain on my shirt because I guarantee she will not think it "tastes like bubblegum".
I'll put the bow away now...