Warning: Whining follows.
So all three of our kids have decided to never sleep again. Sleep is for chumps, they say. I really hoped we had moved on to a new era of lovely, 8-hour overnight visits to dreamland, but no.
In the past three weeks or so, Sir Monkeypants and I have each gotten up at least once, usually two or three times — EACH — every night. The older two have had a crazy mixture of bad dreams, stomach aches, tiny bladders, lost sleep buddies, coughs, and forced awakenings to try to weasel a midnight viewing of the video that their sister got to watch before bed without them. GACK.
The worst by far, however, has been the Little Miss. She’s in that lovely phase when she’s losing her nap, does not want to nap, is too big for a nap, thanks anyway. So she’s napping at all kinds of weird hours, then going to bed at all kinds of weird times, and at least half the time she’s waking up at 2 a.m. wanting to have a three hour milkshakes-and-goldfish-crackers party, and trust me when I say, I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS.
On top of the crazy not-sleeping, the Little Miss has had some bad behaviour issues lately. I don’t know if it’s because she’s two, or if she’s finally getting some molars, or if she’s too short on sleep or what, but she is a total pill. A simple request to come to the table for dinner is met with tears and hysteria; ask her to pick up a toy or – heaven forbid! – put her pants back on and it’s a total meltdown. She plays happily with her brother and sister as long as they give her everything she wants, and when they don’t, she hits and kicks and screams. At this point she’s basically spending at least half her awake time wailing about… well, I don’t think even she knows what.
It’s wearing on me, I gotta say. By the end of the day, Sir Monkeypants comes home and I’m like a dangerous, vicious snapping turtle just waiting to bite his head off. I really wish I could fast forward a couple of months and move on to a happier time. Because there WILL come a happier time, right? RIGHT?
In other news, the Little Miss has a rash in and around her right armpit – a set of 40 or so little white-head like bumps. You’d think this might be the source of her crankies, but it really doesn’t seem to bother her much. The issue is that it is really, really bothering me and Sir Monkeypants. Our doctor says that this rash is Molluscum Contagiosum, and here are some fun facts about it:
- It’s caused by a virus, so there’s no medicine or creams that will treat it. The only thing you can do is burn off the individual bumps with liquid nitrogen, like a wart, and they totally aren’t going to do that on a squirmy two-year-old.
- So, you just have to wait for the virus to run its course. And that will take – wait for it – an average of 18 months, but it could be up to five years. FIVE YEARS.
- The whole time she has the rash, it is very contagious. It’s likely to spread around her body in a lazy, party-like fashion until it has had its way with her.
- Oh, and it’s also very contagious to others. It’s spread through skin-to-skin contact, or contact with wet towels she has used, or toys she has touched, or other surfaces like doorknobs.
So to sum up: there’s basically no way to avoid spreading this thing, short of locking the Little Miss in her room and not touching her for the next five years. We don’t quite understand how it is possible that the whole entire world doesn’t have it. Oh and bonus? Once it’s out of her system, she doesn’t even get immunity. She could be reinfected at any time in the future.
Although I have to say, having a valid medical excuse for locking the Little Miss in her room is awfully appealing.