Monday night, when my mom was babysitting and L and I were hobnobbing with Ms. C, Hatchling was most whiney. He was also whiney all night. I must have gotten up at least 30 times to settle him, comfort him, and shove some motrin down him. I was just sure that those blasted two- year molars were forcing their way through his sensitive little gums. I read once that if adults had to cut molars, we'd all be addicted to narcotic pain relievers, so I wasn't too worried about him.

Tuesday dawned clear and whiney at our house. Hatchling was inconsolable. I chalked it up to his lack of sleep the previous night (I was certainly grumpy from it), and finally managed to get him to take a nap. Post- nap, he was absolutely hideous. The screaming, dear Lord, so much screaming. I finally put him in his room with the gate up to see if he would play happily by himself if there was no comforting mommy nearby. When I came back to check on the always worrisome silence, I found him on the floor, sucking his thumb with Blankie and Tag (a blanket with, you guessed it, a tag, which he rubs against his nose while sucking his thumb) over his face. I knew then that something was wrong.

Yes, it took me a while, but in my defense, he had no fever, very little snot, and nothing else to say "hey, Mama, I'm really sick." I took him to the Dr. late Tuesday afternoon, by which time he was panting like a dog. Seriously, he was taking 60 breaths a minute. That's a lot, in case you have never counted how many breaths you take in a minute. After a quick look at him, the Dr. said "I think we need to admit him."

Oh yes, I felt low. Lower than low. I am the worst mommy ever, no doubt about it.

The hospital stay was not fun. Hatchling had to be taken from our arms into the "Treatment Room", which looks quite benign with it's dinosaur table, but in his eyes it is more akin to a medieval torture chamber. It took three trips for them to be able to get an IV in him. When I say three trips, what I really mean is him being wrenched from our arms thrice times and them sticking him 5-8 times, unsuccessfully, before bringing him back for us to calm down so they could try again.

The good news is, I was worried about him not stringing 2 words together yet like the books say he should, but under pressure, well, he got 3. When they were sticking him, he started yelling "No, I go! I go!" I'm glad he's meeting his verbal development criteria, let me tell ya.

After a night and day of many interruptions, very little sleep, breathing treatments, and lots and lots of crying (from Hatchling, not me), we were finally released. Hatchling was negative for RSV (our worst fear) and pneumonia. Ok, that was a lie. My worst fear was that he really had something because I still haven't got his 18 month shots. I've tried, really I have, but every time I make an appointment, the little rat gets sick. It's like he checks my calendar, sees the appointment, and goes out to lick some water fountains. It never fails! We think it was just a good, old fashioned respiratory virus and a couple of infected ears. The drugs are working, and my son is now running around the house in his usual tornadic fashion. Yippee!!