It’s remarkable how fast a smiling, happy, giggling, chatty toddler can become a whiney, fevery, snot-runnning-out-of-the-nose, clingy mess.

When I first took her temperature it was 100. When Nate did it it was 104. In my world, that means she’s 102. But then, I channel surf the weather reports to see which one I like best. In Nate’s world however, it means her temperature is 104, despite the fact that subsequent readings garnered results everywhere from 99 and up.

We’re heading to the doctor now just to hear a professional wearing a stethescope say that everything is okay and to keep giving her Tylenol.

It’s wrong, I know, to be happy about any of this. I would do anything to make it go away of course. But to hear mama mama mama all day (a somewhat refreshing alternative to Elmo Elmo Elmo)–as much as I can’t get anything else done because she won’t leave my side, as much as I’m exhausted from the non-stop attention, as much as I don’t even know how to take a temperature or give a proper dose of Tylenol,

as much as it pains dada dada dada when she refuses to let him kiss her or put a cool cloth on her forehead,

it’s absolutely the greatest feeling in the world.

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Oh and thank you so much to the always supportive, funny and wonderful Girl Con Queso for awarding me a December Perfect Post award for Getting Ready to Breathe. This is a special one for me since it allows me to look back on something that caused me unwielding torment and be able to, well…breathe now. So gracias, Girl with Cheese. For other great posts, check the list of winners at Suburban Turmoil and Petroville.