Piecing it Together

Childcare is like a good mystery, and I don’t just mean uncovering who broke those Hummel figurines. When a child acts in a certain way, you have to put together the subtle hints to discover why, especially when that child can’t talk like all three of ours. I think I know what’s going on in our house now. I’m kind of slow, so I have to walk through the clues.

Ian has been crankier than usual recently. He’s usually a mellow little guy. Just set a bowl of Tasteeos in front of him, and he’ll entertain himself for a long time, at least until he slams his fingers while playing with the toilet seat. His been whining a lot over the last couple of days, ignoring the piles of Tasteeos in front of him, or even whining while stuffing his face with Tasteeos. He’s been the worst in the evening, when we can expect him to whine from suppertime to bedtime. It’s excruciating listening to him complain inconsolably for a couple hours straight; just ask last night’s babysitter, assuming we can ever finagle another babysitting session. It even carries into bedtime when, instead of falling right to sleep as usual, he’ll sit in bed moaning for several minutes like Abbie is taunting him from the floor, which she may be, but he’s usually so good at ignoring her. So something is making him uncomfortable.

The kids don’t want to eat as much as usual. Ordinarily, I can set a sippy cup full of milk in front of any of them, and they’ll drain it faster than our bank account at Christmas. This is especially true with Tory, who’s gotten adept at working around the protruding valve to leave an amount in the cup best measured on the molecular level. The past few days I’ve had to chase the kids around the house up to an hour after mealtime to encourage them to finish their milk. Goldfish and Tasteeos still disappear quickly, so I know they’re not terminally ill, but they don’t seem as interested in milk. I know I just switched the boys from formula to whole milk, but there seems to be more at play. So something is ruining their appetite.

Sleep schedules seem off as Abbie has been fighting her nap, and the boys are more likely to wake at night. I’ve written extensively about Abbie’s nap difficulties, so I’ll summarize by saying she’s not napping. The boys have woken up in the middle of the night, but not with the screaming I expect when they suffer a baby nightmare. Instead they wake up vaguely complaining, then moderately complaining, then outright complaining until I rescue them to offer the best reassurance I can give at 3am. So something is making at least the boys uncomfortable over night.

Then there’s the big clue. My throat is scratchy. I’m not real uncomfortable, but my throat feels off, my sinuses feel off, and I feel generally worn. Suddenly I notice that the kids are snottier than usual. I saw the nasal rivers flowing recently, but I attributed it to their increased crying since snot flows when tears run.

So it all comes together thanks to my realization that I’m sick, but not so sick as to trap me in bed. The kids must be just sick enough to be miserable, but not sick enough to show blatant signs of illness. Since diseases run up the age ladder in families, I must have caught it from Abbie, probably while we were sharing a plate of broccoli, or specifically when she grabbed a floret, put it in her mouth, realized it was too hot, and put it back on the plate. Mystery solved.