Because I keep saying, to anyone who will listen, "Well, at least things can't get worse!" Um, yes. Yes they can. OK. The world is not ending but still, things are pretty crappy right now. Delaney suddenly got even sicker instead of better. Yesterday, out of the blue, she got a terrible cough that prevented her from napping at all (and missed naps, all by themselves, tend to make mommy very cranky). Then she coughed ALL NIGHT LONG. Roger stayed with her in her room and I stayed with Waylon on the couch and none of us got any sleep. Poor Delaney was so miserable and sick at daybreak that I took her to the pediatrician this morning (luckily they have a Saturday morning clinic). She was diagnosed with an ear infection (her first ever which the doctor thought was unbelieveable) and bronchiolitis. The doctor also said that bronchiolitis is very contagious and that we need to keep Delaney far, far away from Waylon because if he got it, it could be very bad for him. Again, we live in a SHOEBOX. You try keeping a two-year-old away from the object of her affection in 1,000 square feet. It's a bit of a challenge and a nightmare and one that I've been living (unsuccessfully--he caught her cold, remember?) for a week. And people wonder why I'm a germaphobe. If you've lived with us for the last week and witnessed firsthand the ill-effects of this virus on our family you'd start obsessively carrying around antibacterial gel too.
At least the weather was warm and the sun came out today. I sat on the front porch with Way for about 30 minutes this afternoon and that definitely improved my mood. A kind commenter (Hi, Kristine!) wondered after my last post whether or not I'm suffering from PPD. I don't think I am but then again, would I really know if I was? I tend to think that my depression lately has been situational. I do smile, at least a little, each day. When the kids are feeling better, when the weather is nice and the sun is out, when Delaney's at preschool and I can get things done around the house, I really do feel better. I admit that I probably do have a touch of the "baby blues" and I don't think I'd be afraid to seek help if I thought I had PPD but I'm just not sure that's what this is.