Good thing we already celebrated.

What a sad couple of days for Tyler


We went to the zoo on Tuesday, which is a very fun outing that is even more fun with good friends. Tucker loves the zoo, and it is no small challenge to keep him corralled amongst all the animals. He has always been a fan of the elephants, but now he also loves the giraffes, the polar bears, the peacocks, and the squirrels. But if you ask him which animals were his favorite, he'll tell you the dogs. (I don't recall seeing any, but whatever.)


He has no fear at the zoo, and frankly, I could do with a healthy amount on his part. I caught him and snagged him away just before he fed his entire index finger to the ducks. I'm not kidding. He loved the day, from start to finish, and he didn't even complain about the growing blister on the inside of his left ankle, where his shoe was rubbing his sweet little foot. (Which is not nearly as sweet as it once was... somewhere along the line, baby feet change into kid feet, and those are two very different animals.)


I am learning that my son will tolerate great amounts of pain, if he is having a good time. He did not get this character quality from his mother.


While Tucker was trekking from one end of the zoo to the other, Tyler rode along as my personal passenger, in the Hip Hammock (one of the best baby inventions, aside from diapers). He didn't seem terribly thrilled with the whole event, and he kept laying his sweet little head on my shoulder... which is when it occurred to me that perhaps he wasn't feeling well. That's when I realized he had a fever, which is when I realized perhaps that's why he didn't sleep through the night. I had brought my sick child to the zoo, the day before his birthday. Well done, Tricia.

Just add it to the list of reasons why I won't be Mother of the Year.


Did we rush home? No way. I was having a good time. So was Tucker. So were our friends. Instead, I have him a healthy dose of baby Tylenol, settled him into a reclining position in the stroller, and trekked on. He snoozed for a good while, without complaint.

He also napped on the drive home, and then he napped yet again when he was in his crib later that afternoon. Poor little guy.

It wasn't until later that night that the thermometer read 105. That will strike fear in the heart of any mother, particularly one whose husband is traveling. Robb was due to arrive home late that night, and he made the drive from the airport to our house in record time. He's one good daddy.

The doctor gave us 45 minutes to bring the fever down, or he wanted us to head to the ER. Some Motrin, a tepid bath, and a popsicle later, he was down to 103. Not my favorite, but low enough to hold off a trip to the hospital. My poor baby.

No, wait... my poor one-year-old. Because at this point, we had turned the corner in the night: it was no longer the eve of his birthday, but truly The Big Day.

The next morning, he was no better. But to make things worse, I was sick, too. I thought I had the flu, but I had a killer migraine that felt like death warmed over. I did not get out of bed until 4:00pm, and I was in my pajamas for 36 hours. I would show you pictures of my wretchedness, but thankfully there are none... and if there were, I am not quite humble enough to post them. It was an awful, horrible day.

(Thank you to those of you who loved me in that moment. You know who you are, and you know how awful I looked. It was not my finest hour. But you were good to me.)

While I lay in bed, wishing for something to change, Robb spent the day doing the Dad Thing, running Tyler to the doctor for bloodwork and a full physical, only to learn that he has a virus that must run its course. Doctor's orders: should the fever spike that high again, call right away. Thankfully, his fever has stayed below 102 since then, but even as I type, he is loaded with Motrin and napping away.

We are hopeful that this will be the only birthday of Tyler's entire life on which he will need to visit the doctor.

He is on the mend, and I am happy to say: I am too. Because yesterday at this time, there is no way I could have sat vertical long enough or opened my eyes to any degree necessary to write this saga.

Good thing we already celebrated Tyler's birthday, and good thing he can't read the calendar to know he got the shaft on May 7, 2008.

It's the bonus to the pre-literacy years.