Hello again from the land of the sleep-deprived. I have been cooped up in the house (mostly) with a sick toddler and a gassy infant, along with my equally stir-crazy husband and my mother. Plus I've been on antibiotics, so I can't even drown my sorrows in spiked egg nog.
Of course, my husband has been putting up with the kids, his ailing wife, and his mother-in-law for this period. Not that anyone is keeping score or anything, but I'm sure that your sympathy meters are registering just as strong for him.
Little Gigi did not have thrush, it turns out. It was something called herpangina and it was equally unpleasant but required less medication. She has her appetite back and it's no longer painful for her to eat. I am determined to get her back to school tomorrow even if it kills us both. The incubation period is over, her fever is gone, and the nursery has had plenty of time to disinfect the joint in her absence. If she isn't back in school tomorrow, so help me, I'm staying in bed all day.
Go ahead, call the Bad Mommy Cops on me; I doubt they'll even give me a warning.