Catching our breath

This weekend was somethin'.

On Saturday, Alex seemed like he was getting a little bit of a cold.  But it didn't seem too bad and he was in a  good mood, so we went to a pumpkin patch with Claire and Addy.  We saw some goats, saw (and heard) a donkey, rode a hay ride, played in some corn.  The kids were tired so we loaded them up and headed home.  Both conked out within 10 minutes.  It was only about a 30 minute drive, so when we got home, I figured I would just lay Alex down.  And since he was so deeply asleep, I figured he would just go right back to sleep.  WRONG.  So, for the rest of the day, I had a borderline sick kid operating on 20 minutes of sleep when he is used to at least an hour.  Let the games begin!

After a bunch of whining and arguing and sassing, I figured an errand would be good to get us out of the house again and kill some time in new surroundings.  We needed dog food so I proposed we go to the pet store and look at fish.  Proposal accepted!  After about 10 minutes of running around like a maniac touching every fish, snake and lizard tank within reach of his little arms, we headed over to get some dog food.  But, one of us was distracted by a stuffed cat posing on the cat climber thingys.  And when I requested the stuffed animal be put back and the quest for dog food continue, the meltdown began.  Lots of whining while slumped or sprawled out on the floor.  And any time I would get within a foot of him, he would start yelling OW!OW!OW!  It was such a spectacle, not one, but two different store employees frightfully asked me if I needed help.  Gee...I look like I need help?  Why?  Oh, because I have a 35lb bag of dog food slung over my shoulder and I am dragging a 3 year old down the aisle by his armpit?  Nah, I got it.

I did accept the help of one girl when she asked if I wanted her to carry my purchase to my car.  As we were walking out, Alex was crying and requesting to be put down.  I told him no because clearly he was unable to use his listening skills.  With that my personal dog food sherpa giggled and told me I sound just like her mom.  And then she launched into a story about having to wear a backpack leash when she was little because she would run off and her mom would find her talking to some guy named Bill but she would tell her mom he wasn't a stranger because she knew his name now and thank goodness she grew up in a small town where the only strange man she was introducing herself to was good ol' Bill.  This whole story while I have a writhing, whining, crying 3 year old on my hip.  And then that little writhing , whining, crying 3 year old had the gall to ask me to stop and get him french fries.  Yeah....right.  I'll get right on that.

We got home and of course Alex didn't want to get out of the truck.  Time for another meltdown!  But lucky for me, we were at home, and I have a prison disguised as his room for him there.  Into lock-down he went. I shut his door and started angrily picking up the stuff strewn about the house.  Alex's toys were thrown from across the living room into his play room with love, cupboard doors were slammed shut, and the vacuum was sweetly ripped from its resting place.  All this ruckus, brought Travis downstairs from HIS NAP, and he asked if I needed to take a walk.  To which I started laugh-crying and told him, No, Rumpelstiltskin, I don't need to go for a walk. I need everything to just magically be fine.

By this point, Alex had emerged from his room and was sitting in the middle of the living room floor.  And I hear a little voice saying, "Mom?  I need you."  So I went in and asked what he needed.  "I need to snuggle you."  Which, while it was awesome and a much needed snuggle, made me realize something.  I am allowing myself to be emotional abused by a toddler.  He beats me down down down and then pulls me right back up with a smile and a snuggle.  Sneaky sneaky.

At about 7:45, he asked to lay down and read books.  And he was passed out by 8:10.  Now, I know he didn't have much of a nap, but there were still red flags a-flyin'.  And for good reason it turns out.  Sunday morning he woke up pretty much out of breath.  Just laying there.  Short, shallow, fast breaths.  A listen to his back confirmed some wheezing and rattling, so off to urgent care we went.  He got a breathing treatment and we were sent home as the proud new owners of our very own nebulizer.

I stayed home with him on Monday and called in Grandma reinforcements.  Not only did she help entertain and bathe him, she also showed up with three bags of food, a new book, and a sticker book.  Grandmas rule.