Runnin' on Empty

My life for the past week has been pretty much devoted to nursing my sick two year old, who happens to be the world's worst medicine-taker. He has an ear infection and sore throat, so the doctor prescribed a course of amoxicillin. This unfortunately requires giving him two teaspoons (that's a lot more than you'd think) twice a day for 10 days. He wouldn't even take it once.

This kid is amazingly stubborn where medicine is concerned. I put it in yogurt and strawberry milk-- the second he smelled it, he wouldn't even try. Not only that, but now he's suscpicious of every thing I try to feed him and won't take it unless he's sure it med-free. I tried holding him down and forcing it down him (I know, I know--- my bad parenting skills are showing). He spewed it all over me and then barfed for good measure.

Last night, he woke up with a fever of about 104 degrees with a raging ear ache / sore throat at 3:00 in the morning. I was scared-- the fever was so high, and of course he wouldn't even take Tylenol to get it down. We ended up doing the tylenol suppository thing (you can't tell me that course of action is better than any pill in the world). I was up the rest of the night.

My point is, I'm 31 and I can't function well on 3 hours of sleep anymore. Don't know when it happened, but I'm definitely getting old.

Give The Giver Back

I just finished reading The Giver by Lois Lowry-- can't say I liked it much. Granted, I read it in two hours while the Olympics were in the background. Once upon a time, I would have pondered deeply the themes of sameness, conformity, love and revolution contained within the book. The English major in me would have looked at the symbolism of one person being selected to bear all of the pain inherent in the community. These days, I find I am much more controlled by the mother in me who was appalled by the one baby who was executed and the other who apparently froze to death at the end.

I can't help but interject my own children into this (and any other story or t.v. show) about the abuse or murder of innocence. Every child's face looks like one of my own and the mother bear comes out in me as I even contemplate one of them hurt or killed. Of every torture, sickness, misfortune or pain, the very worst thing that I can imagine is seeing my children suffer.

And what of God? He loves us infinitely more than the already unmeasurable love most of us feel for our children. How can He stand to see us suffer-- He, the All-Powerful Being who is still bound by His own immutable laws. He can't help us if we won't ask, or if by his assistance He would inflict more harm. Still, it must require a measure of love and self-control that I can't even imagine to watch some of the every-day drama that happens in this world...