A Rose by any other name...

Dear Roseola,

Wow, Roseola, you are a special virus aren't you? Only attacking young children, scaring the crap out of their mothers, and pretty much benign but a pain in the ass. What a great way to be. Lets see how you like to entertain us, shall we?

First, we wake at 2 am and find a burning ember of a child in bed. Now, admittedly, we have been extra lucky in that we have maybe once before had a child with a high fever in this house. Truly remarkable considering we raised three simultaneously and most infants have random fevers now and then. But, unfortunately, because of my lack of experience with random night fevers, we had to call the nurse hotline to find out what to do when your kid is seemingly normal in every way other than the fact that he is being welded to your body where his iron hot skin touches yours.

So then the next day proceeds and we are lulled into a sense of security because no other symptoms appear. True, after nap we have three feverish children instead of one, but otherwise, they seem ok. After talking to the doctor, who mentions stomach bugs as a possibility (thanks doc!), I do get a little panicky thinking about three barfing toddlers all night long but you're too smart to go the blunt route. We actually get a pretty good night's sleep, fevers and all. So just when we thought it was all over, reality hits.

We have crabby, cranky, irritable children on hunger strike with random rashes sprouting all over their bodies.

And the 3rd night? No sleep at all. Somehow the 'irritability' mentioned on all website searches of symptoms of Roseola doesn't quite adequately describe the night we just survived. Every 15 minutes someone screaming or yelling in some sort of private agony that can not be translated into a solvable symptom? Oh yeah. That's lovely. Not letting pregnant mommy sleep until 3am and then waking her again at 6 with sobbing and whining and moaning and whimpering? Oh that is just touching.

So glad you cared to send the very best.

And this sneaky business of sending symptoms one at a time and far enough apart to confuse and distract? Why you should be in the CIA or something. The frying pan in the face that hits you right when you think you're through the last of it was a brilliant finale.

Hating you Roseola. Thank god for you and me that it's a once in a childhood thing, because if I ever see you again? (And that means the fourth kid better get a mild-ass case of it mister) I will be a lot less tolerant of you. Whatever that means.

Stupid virus.

Yours in exhaustion,
Mommy