Not the Boogie Man

Hi.

We have strep.

And more Amoxicillin or derivatives thereof to save John Wayne and the horse he rode in on.

It's nappy time ya'll.

Another all nighter - I'm feeling like the mother of newborn without the actual newborn or any Lansinoh pads stuck to my collarbone. We were all up every second of last night again. First it was a happy but live wire Abby who was looking for her "sister." (I have no idea.) Then an incoherent and angry at his ear drum Grayson. ("Mommy, it has been Bam, Bam Bamming all night long! It won't let me sleep!")

I gave in to the night at about 4:00am and realized that yes, one day I will miss Abby's tiny little pout of a mouth whispering sweet baby girl sugar in my ear. "Mommy, I luj you so much. Will you snuggle me?" And yes, I know some day I will even long for a night spent massaging Grayson's achey calf muscle while also drawing circles on his back in the only way a worried mommy can. I will certainly miss the suprise of their innocent watery eyes fluttering open in search of someone while their sleepy mouths turn up in the instant comfort and grace that is knowing someone who loves you more than herself is standing vigil while you sleep, or at the very least hallucinating. I remembered that it can't freeze like this forever and soaking it up at 4am was as good a time as any.

So the night and its many strange, dark, fuzzy overlappings of bedrooms, bathroom sinks, Tylenol measuring cups, and replacement pjs finally sewed into a tangible morning. The relief of morning where I could firmly plant my brain down on to the A.M. of realism and stop spinning in P.M. centrifugal worry. The kind of irrational worry that convinces you it can't be okay and that they both suffer from some kind of horrible chronic 1800s before penicillin plague that is all your fault because you let them run around outside in their socks after dinner.

Once day broke and I woke up a sound asleep friend or two (oops and thanks Mom and CRK!), we got it together and did our time at the pediatricians, CVS pharmacy drop-off line ("Yes, yellow basket behind you, I can see it from here.") and the next door deli so Grayson could lay prone on a bench and Abby could eat a hot dog and spill chocolate milk.

So the good news is it's strep. Beautiful, terrible, painful, wonderful strep that can be cured with ten days of putrid skim milk colored God-Bless-modern-medicine medicine. And knowing, it was not the Boogie Man after all.