Zombified.

 I FORGOT HOW TERRIBLE IT IS TO SLEEP BADLY.

I complained about Minnie's fractured sleep for literal YEARS. Then she started sleeping like a person, and I just sort of instantly took my full nights for granted like I had learned nothing from the struggle-. THEN SHE GOT SICK, and now I am a zombie.

BAH.

She feels ok except her mouth still hurts she says. What if she has hand foot mouth (something we have escaped thus far) on top of strep? I might take her back to the ped today, if only because Harry's pericarditis started after a bout of strep when he was 6. (Although, ultimately, docs decided there wasn't a link and took his off his prophylactic penicillin? The whole thing remains unsettling). She ate NONE of her lunch at school yesterday, but when she got home, she drank 20 ounces of milk, so that's something.

(Actually, I felt like a jerk sending her to school but she really wanted to go, was fever free for more than 24 hours, had 72 hours of antibiotics under her belt, etc.)

Remembering the Harry link made me feel way better, I must say, about my own anxiety this week. NO WONDER I GET WORRIED.

She accessorized with her first day of school name tag that she has been keeping taped to her desk at home because 3 year-olds are SO WEIRD.

It is much much harder to be a parent of a preschooler in my mid-40s than it was in my late 20s or early 30s. OR EVEN LATE 30s. With Dorothy, I was 37 when she was Minnie's age, and at the time THAT felt so much harder than turning 29 with toddler Harry. But this? OMG.

So many things are easier, though, so it's a win ultimately.