Blech

So I experienced my first cold post-baby birth this week. I discovered I am not Super Mommy. This, of course, comes on the heels of already KNOWING I'm not Super Mommy when we came back from our camping trip on Sunday, and my MIL gave me a status report on how she did all her exercises faithfully and even did hours and hours of floor time.

This convinced me that my in-laws are better parents than I am.

And then, when we got Kiki home, and I was cuddling her, I noticed she'd started tongue thrusting. Like a nervous tic or something. Constantly. I pointed it out to Kipp, who said she'd always stuck out her tongue like that. No, no, I said, it's not the same, and later when he was holding her, he realized it, too.

And then at her physical therapy appointment that Monday we learned that her fabulous attention span, which we'd always been proud of, is actually a bad thing. Turns out DS babies are notoriously passive creatures, and the "attention span" thing is just their way of tuning out. Now, luckily, Kiki is also extremely active and easy to engage, so hopefully this is not as terrible as it could be.

We also got B & C on Monday, for another 2 weeks. Money is tight, so food is tight. With 2 growing kids and a diabetic husband, it goes without saying that I let them eat their fill before I eat mine. Only to come to find that caloric intake affects milk production. Ah well, we have formula. It's not a tragedy.

And then on Tuesday, somewhere in the late afternoon, BANG, I developped a 102 degree fever out. Of. Nowhere.

Now when I get sick, I sleep. It's the only way I heal. I sleep, and then I feel better. Only, Hi, I have three kids to take care of. The older ones, thankfully, can pretty much take care of themselves, but Kiki? Not so much.

I had a fever between 102 and 103 up until about 2am today. And during that entire stretch of time it was all I could do to change her diaper and feed her. I forced myself to pump, even though it was all I could do to sit up for that long, because I was convinced that the antibodies I was building against this damned cold would somehow get passed along to her that way. Let's hope I'm right!

In any case, the bottom line is that I didn't cuddle or play with my baby the entire time I was sick. All I did was feed her, change her diaper, and put her back in her playpen. No kisses. No coos. No cuddles. I probably oozed rejection, and this after a weekend away. I've already saddled my child with future therapy, and she's not even 4 months old yet.

I know I'm probably overreacting, but I honestly feel like if I miss any of her exercises, if I let her sleep yet another night on that flattening portion of her skull, if I let her go 5 wakeful minutes without some kind of stimulation, that I'm deducting possibilities from her future. I didn't kiss her today; now if she never learns how to read, it'll be all my fault.

You know, that shouldn't be an outrageous expectation, should it? That someday your child will be able to read?

Gah. Enough of this. I've got to work so I can buy hamburger.