I'm going at this backwards, updating y'all on the most recent events first. You'll just have to bear with me...
It's been a rough week+ since we got back from the States. Jet-lag is always tough, especially when the little stinker absolutely refuses to sleep on the plane and kept up a low-grade whine for 2/3 of the overseas flight. Not only that, but I'm pretty sure there's an emotional element to our returns since he gets used to having 897 people around him all the time and gets slammed back to reality with just me and dad (just me during the day). I have trouble dealing with that transition. And there aren't nearly as many people wanting to play with me all the time. All in all, a recipe for a rough couple days. But we compounded it this time. Seems we're doomed never to be able to deal solely with the jet-lag. Last time it was a UTI. This time it was a concussion and a cold.
So yeah, um...concussion. I had an enormous mommy FAIL the day after we got back. I was doing the mountains of laundry you always have when you get back from a long trip and decided to take Dylan down into the basement with me so he wouldn't whine about being left alone. For whatever reason, I decided to set him in a laundry basket on the little table we have down there next to the washer/dryer. (I have NO idea what I was thinking...I mean, I know I thought, "let's put him in the laundry basket to keep him away from all the dirt down here." I have no clue why I decided that the table was a good idea. The only excuse I have is my own jet-lag.) You see where this is going? Yeah. The littlest Schnegg decided to try to imitate his Grandpa Williams' glory days at Casa Bonita and take a swan dive onto the concrete floor. It would appear he landed directly on the top of his skull.
Once I finally got him (and me) somewhat calmed down, I noticed he was just hanging on to me and not taking any interest in his surroundings - no matter what toys I tried to tempt him with. He'd sit up for a second, then just slump back down onto me. Just very lethargic and clingy. I decided I'd better call the pedi just to be on the safe side. It was a pretty long fall onto a pretty hard floor, after all. Of course, my pediatrician's office was closed Thursday afternoons, so I decided I'd call G and ask him who I should call instead. While the phone was ringing, Dylan projectile vomited all over the both of us. We're not talking spit-up, we're talking geysers in which you could identify just exactly what he'd had for lunch.
Yeah, that'll scare the shit out of you. While I was hosing us both off in the bathtub, G called a pedi who told us to immediately get him to the hospital - since the vomiting was a pretty sure sign of a concussion. G rushed home from work to drive us to the hospital. I was supposed to sit in the back with Dylan and both monitor him and try to keep his head from knocking around too much.
Long story short, they x-rayed his noggin (determined there was no lasting damage) and decided to keep us 24 hours for observation. During that 24 hours, they woke Dylan up every hour to take his blood pressure, blood oxygen content and shine a light into his eyes. We made it through and got a clean bill of health on Friday afternoon (24 hours later), but it probably wasn't the best recipe for dealing with jet-lag. (Just a side note, our nurse sucked, too. She probably gave Dylan nightmares, the horrible hag).
Friday night was the first really, really terrible night. Whether from jet-lag, the trauma of the concussion/fall or from the cold he picked up in the hospital. (Which scared the shit out of me around 3 in the morning since the hospital gave us a list of symptoms to watch out for...one of which was clear fluid running from his nose. Saturday morning continued that scare since he again projectile vomited right after breakfast. So I called the hospital and they assured me that he probably just had some kind of bug, since he was still happily playing).
In any case, thus began the nightly wake-ups. He'd wake up sometime around 10 and be up for 3 hours. No matter what we did, it was 3 hours. And they were not a pleasant 3 hours. A couple days later he decided that 3 hours weren't enough middle-of-the-night goodness, he needed another hour-o'-fun around 4. So we were all freaking exhausted.
I started actively trying to combat the jet-lag by waking him up at 7am and waking him up from his naps so that he didn't sleep longer than 3 hours. Also tried taking walks with him to get him what little sunshine was to be had over here. G grabbed his little homeopathic pharmacy and started pumping the boy full of homeopathic remedies for colds, sleep issues, traumas, etc. I delayed my return to work another couple days and the pattern continued. He was fine during the day, happy as a clam and napping well (even if I had to wake him up from his naps). Then came nighttime and the horror began. When he woke around 8:30 on Tuesday night I finally just pulled an air mattress into his room next to his crib. It was better. Less crying. I let him play in his crib until he started crying, then I'd just lay him back down and go back to "sleep." I'm not sure how long the stretch lasted that night, since it was pitch black in his room and I couldn't see my watch. At least a couple hours. I finally stopped giving him his binkies back once I realized he was just playing a game with me. He took great pleasure in sticking his arm out between the bars and seeing if he could drop his binky into the miniscule gap between the crib and the mattress. At some point (probably the infamous 3-hour mark) he just laid himself down and went to sleep. When he woke up around 4ish, I just fed him and laid him back in his crib and he went back to sleep pretty quickly. First semi-restful night we'd had since we left the States.
Wednesday night was G's night since he was off on Thursday. And the little shit slept from 7:30 til 7:45 just waking long enough to eat twice. I'm convinced he freaking KNEW that his dad was gonna have to deal with it and slept through just to piss me off. (That or he knew that his dad just isn't as good as his mom...)
Last night was even better. He went down at 7:30, woke just long enough to eat at 2:30 and we had to wake him up at 7:45. So I'm crossing my fingers that we're over the hump and don't backslide. (A possibility since he absolutely refused to nap for his aunt this afternoon). So far, so good.
We're all much more rested. But I'm still going to bed right now...uncharacteristically early for this night owl but a girl's gotta catch up on a week's worth of exhaustion.
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