Murray seems to be healing nicely. The Pepcid and prescription “belly coater” he was given seems to be working wonders for his appetite. The vomiting has stopped entirely. Things are good in Murrayville. (Thank goodness.) But we’re not in the clear just yet. After his belly heals, we have to then take him back to the doctor and put him on a lifelong diet, which won’t be fun because this little man loves to eat. But he’ll most likely have belly issues for his entire life.
Em has been sick as well. And today I finally decided (after two weeks and three nights of little to no sleep) that it was time to take him to the doctor. My guess has been that he has a common cold, but what if I turned out to be wrong and he was actually suffering from something worse? I would never forgive myself and we all know that motherhood is fueled by guilt—love is a given—it’s the guilt part that we don’t often talk about because admitting we do something out of guilt makes us feel guilty because, well, doing something out of guilt is actually selfish, right? And being selfish makes you a bad mother.
(I’m sorry, have I gone off topic? This is what happens when someone is sleep deprived, guilty and unable to stop her child from coughing long enough so he can get a good night’s rest. It’s also what happens when someone is rundown. While level crazy may be high today, I reckon I’ll be back to a relative normal tomorrow.)
Where was I?
Today I took Emory in for a sick visit to the doctor. But not before having a major breakthrough where crazy is concerned. I’m so sleep deprived, I actually considered taking Murray along with us. Why? Because Emory kept him company last week, so Murray would naturally want to return the favor, right? I mean, that’s what brothers do, right? They make their siblings feel better when they’re down or sick. I had the cat carrier in my hand when I realized how completely and totally insane I was being. Who brings a cat to a pediatrician’s office? Apparently, I’m a few steps away from becoming that person and I’m not even sure that person exists yet, I’m not sure that person has yet been defined. But leave it to me to define that person.
Anyway, I talked myself away from entering crazyville and went to the pediatrician without our shaved cat.
The doctor confirmed my thoughts: Emory has a cold and a nasty cough to go along with it. Other than slathering a vapor rub on his feet, chest and tummy, there’s nothing much I can do for him. So I packed everything back into the car and we headed home.
That’s when something spectacular took place.
The second I removed Emory’s jacket, and the moment we walked through the door, he toddled over to the armchair where Murray napped and climbed up next to him. And he spoke clearly, concisely and with syllables (not the English variety, mind you) and told Murray everything he had missed.
Naturally, I ran for the camera. (I so wish I had audio too!)
I hope our pediatrician is open to the idea of welcoming pets as binkies.
And brothers.
Mihow 
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