The Croup...

...can bite my butt.

The B developed a breathing issue last night which spurred an "ER or not ER" debate between myself and the on-call nurse for my pediatrician's office. That'll sure scare you. I think back to all the times I went to the ER as a kid and I wonder how my mom stayed sane through it.

We ended up not going to the ER, but waiting for a 9:30 appointment at the doctor's, mostly because she seemed to be getting air, just not sounding very good doing it.

So, it's the croup, which could be an early indication of asthma. She's the tiniest little trooper in the trooper army, though, trying to be herself, though she is clearly a bit deflated. She reminds me of one of those mylar balloons about three days after you've bought it. It's still shiny and cute, but it's sagging a little.

In all my parenting wisdom, I have been eschewing juice in favor of actual fruit. More nutrition, better eating patterns, etc. This, of course, has bitten me right on the butt. She has no appetite, but she won't touch juice or Pedialyte because they're so unfamiliar to her. Doh.

She's finally settled in to sleep, but I have a feeling I'll be up with her in a few hours. Wish us luck here at B central, huh?