The return home with its subsequent backlash has been rough.
The night we got back Henry had us up all night. Poor little guy couldn't breathe through his nose, making his beloved binky a rotten tease. I was supposed to start a nanny job that morning, but had to call in "sick" on my first day. Go, me!
Now that we had been properly sleep deprived John went off to work and H and I spent the whole of the day in each others arms. There certainly is a sweetness to sick babies, and it consists entirely in their desire to fall asleep on your chest. There may be nothing sweeter.
After a long day of snot, drool, and fever our air conditioner decided to give out on us. Seriously. Cuddling a little ball of 100° when your house is 82° is a miserable experience. (I clearly live a life of decadence because I cannot fathom how people lived down here before cold, circulated air.) We made it through the night with some fans and headed straight for the pool the next morning.
Henry loved the pool. LOVED IT.
Thanks to the baby inhaling quite a bit of the pool, is sinuses were all cleaned out for the rest of the day which was nice, but we still had a broken air conditioner. It was so hot in our house and Henry's room was the hottest.
hot house + baby with a fever = no sleep
So, 10:30 pm rolls around and the only thing to do is toss the kid into a cold tub. There was no moment of shock, just instant relief. He was so happy, albeit exhausted. Then he rammed the bathtub with his head and the fun was over. I grabbed his cool little body out of the tub, dried him off, and let him loose on the bathroom floor.
John was setting up the pack-n-play in our room (where it is much cooler), Henry was writhing on the floor, and I was eating Pei Wei leftovers sitting on the bathmat, snapping pics of his chaos.
And thus ends the too-long story of our weekend saga and here is to hoping the guys come to fix the AC this morning and that this week will be better. Mostly just cooler.