![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
johnny9fingersWe've had a difficult week-and-a-half chez Ninefingers.
Henry was one year old on May 11th and we had a number of celebrations planned for him over the weekend. However, ten-or-so days beforehand he went down with a bad cold which developed unpleasantly. When we took him along to the quack she opined that we should keep on with the fever-reducing painkillers, and there seemed to be no need for antibiotics as there was little sign of secondary infections.
As was, neither of us parents were getting much sleep, because the poor mite seemed in more pain than his circumstances would occasion: and he regularly awoke three or four times a night - this rendered both SWMBO and me pretty punch-drunk, if that's the word the sense of which I'm trying to approximate.
Anyway, the lad perked up a smidgeon, and we started his birthday celebrations on Friday. SWMBO's parent's came to stay over for the weekend, and Henry's playgroup and close-to-birthday folk from the ante-natal classes turned up on the doorstep bearing cards (we stipulated no gifts, as H is spoiled rotten in that respect already) and ready to tuck into the party food which Madame's mother had helped prepare. Kay, Henry's nanny, was on hand to help with the plethora (if that's an acceptable collective term) of children running amok about the house.
All went surprisingly well, although H was still not himself. But we knew that he had no symptoms of anything really dangerous (like meningitis, for example) and so we were as relaxed as we could be, given the circs.
The next morning, after a pretty disturbed night even by the standards of the previous week, we found out why. I would be exaggerating if I said that Henry had half-a-pint of blood and pus pouring from his right ear…but not by much. Poor little man had a secondary infection behind his ear that had burst his eardrum. As an adult, I know how painful that can be, so I have little wonder about his disturbed nights. A trifle irritated with the quack: nevertheless one can't expect them to be augers as well as diagnosticians.
We scooted down to the emergency doctors attached to Dulwich Hospital and saw a nice old competent GP who prescribed a course of antibiotics, and Henry started picking up from then.
Family "do" on the Saturday. The kid Bro' and his missus came down from Nottinghamshire; The Mother came over; and Madame's Brother and family put in an appearance too. Much fun had by all, even Henry. The grown-ups got through far too much champagne, from a very noble house in Reims, no less - we drank slightly above our purses, though not above our station. Henry was showered with gifts of expensive kinds. Obv. I shall have to find some charitable voluntary work to assuage my conscience about it all. Such is.
By Sunday, Henry was truly on the mend. This quietened the beating breast rather, and allowed his mummy and daddy to relax for the first time in two weeks. So we went out for lunch at the nearest gastropub (The Palmerston on Lordship Lane) wherein Henry charmed the waitresses and made eyes at all the pretty girls in the room. He's going to be a real ladies man when he grows up, if he wants to be.
For all of the weekend we had a spell of good weather in the middle of the wettest April and May I can remember. Despite being unwell, in other respects the Gods seemed to favour the lad. Last night, after putting a much-improved Henry to bed, Madame and I cracked open a bottle of Etienne Sauzet's 2002 Puligny Montrachet that we had been given a few years ago, to go with the sea bass I had cooked for supper: and all seemed just a little more agreeable with the world.
Today it's back to the grind.
Go well and do good things. Have fun while doing so too.
Henry was one year old on May 11th and we had a number of celebrations planned for him over the weekend. However, ten-or-so days beforehand he went down with a bad cold which developed unpleasantly. When we took him along to the quack she opined that we should keep on with the fever-reducing painkillers, and there seemed to be no need for antibiotics as there was little sign of secondary infections.
As was, neither of us parents were getting much sleep, because the poor mite seemed in more pain than his circumstances would occasion: and he regularly awoke three or four times a night - this rendered both SWMBO and me pretty punch-drunk, if that's the word the sense of which I'm trying to approximate.
Anyway, the lad perked up a smidgeon, and we started his birthday celebrations on Friday. SWMBO's parent's came to stay over for the weekend, and Henry's playgroup and close-to-birthday folk from the ante-natal classes turned up on the doorstep bearing cards (we stipulated no gifts, as H is spoiled rotten in that respect already) and ready to tuck into the party food which Madame's mother had helped prepare. Kay, Henry's nanny, was on hand to help with the plethora (if that's an acceptable collective term) of children running amok about the house.
All went surprisingly well, although H was still not himself. But we knew that he had no symptoms of anything really dangerous (like meningitis, for example) and so we were as relaxed as we could be, given the circs.
The next morning, after a pretty disturbed night even by the standards of the previous week, we found out why. I would be exaggerating if I said that Henry had half-a-pint of blood and pus pouring from his right ear…but not by much. Poor little man had a secondary infection behind his ear that had burst his eardrum. As an adult, I know how painful that can be, so I have little wonder about his disturbed nights. A trifle irritated with the quack: nevertheless one can't expect them to be augers as well as diagnosticians.
We scooted down to the emergency doctors attached to Dulwich Hospital and saw a nice old competent GP who prescribed a course of antibiotics, and Henry started picking up from then.
Family "do" on the Saturday. The kid Bro' and his missus came down from Nottinghamshire; The Mother came over; and Madame's Brother and family put in an appearance too. Much fun had by all, even Henry. The grown-ups got through far too much champagne, from a very noble house in Reims, no less - we drank slightly above our purses, though not above our station. Henry was showered with gifts of expensive kinds. Obv. I shall have to find some charitable voluntary work to assuage my conscience about it all. Such is.
By Sunday, Henry was truly on the mend. This quietened the beating breast rather, and allowed his mummy and daddy to relax for the first time in two weeks. So we went out for lunch at the nearest gastropub (The Palmerston on Lordship Lane) wherein Henry charmed the waitresses and made eyes at all the pretty girls in the room. He's going to be a real ladies man when he grows up, if he wants to be.
For all of the weekend we had a spell of good weather in the middle of the wettest April and May I can remember. Despite being unwell, in other respects the Gods seemed to favour the lad. Last night, after putting a much-improved Henry to bed, Madame and I cracked open a bottle of Etienne Sauzet's 2002 Puligny Montrachet that we had been given a few years ago, to go with the sea bass I had cooked for supper: and all seemed just a little more agreeable with the world.
Today it's back to the grind.
Go well and do good things. Have fun while doing so too.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 12:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 02:17 pm (UTC)Thank you for your kind words. Hope all is well in KDD land.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 04:57 am (UTC)Managed to keep the crankiness under control too. Small wins, hey?