I turned 29 today. I was supposed to sleep in a bit, have a leisurely morning with my husband and little boy, rest while JR took his nap and Ross watched football, and then drop JR off with his grandparents so Ross and I could enjoy an evening out.
Not. So. Much.
Instead, I was ripped from my sleep at 2am by a screaming toddler with a fever. Then I was ripped from my sleep again a few hours later by the same toddler with an even higher fever. So, we spent the morning in the doctor’s office, wandering around Target while we waited for JR’s prescription to be filled (after a quick trip to Krispy Kreme to try and be festive), and heading home to rest. JR’s fever eventually spiked to 104.5 which led to a call to the doctor to find out exactly *when* I should freak out and continuous prayers that we wouldn’t be celebrating my birthday in the ER.
JR cried a pretty much all day and we watched A LOT of Winnie the Pooh, but his fever finally seemed to be under control by around 4pm. After escaping briefly running a quick errand, I came home to find this:
While I’m still bummed that my birthday celebration will have to wait until next week, coming home to this, my two boys sleeping soundly (and competing over who could snore the loudest), it made the destruction of our plans sting a little bit less.