Monday, June 18, 2012
Georgie's sweet baby face blinks and yawns in the morning light that seeps through the blinds. She's been whimpering and tossing all night long, while Keith and I tried to decode her odd symptoms. One hot red cheek. General malaise. Teething? Ear infection? It's a midnight mystery.
Early-hours dosing with Nurofen. Sleepy, chilly kitchen minutes spent emptying the medicine basket looking for a damn dropper. Each parent holding down one arm as she fitfully thrashes between us. Turns stroking and checking her hot little head. Dad holding her perched on his shoulder for one long hour. Mum propped up against the windowsill for another. We mumble updates to each other.
Dummy search and replace.
Meanwhile, one big kid wets their bed. Another has a nightmare.
We walk the halls.
The hours tick on.
Keith has a healing scab on his forehead from days earlier when a the sounds of a screaming nightmare from down the hall sent him flying out of bed and into a wall.
In the morning, all three awake, cheerful and chirpy as baby birds, clamouring for breakfast. Keith and I rub the grit from our eyes, and stretch our aching bones. The night slips away and the day begins.