From the Front Lines

It's 2:38 a.m. do you know if your child is writhing around in discomfort screaming and crying?

I do. I was on sleeping duty last night, so MacTroll has it tonight. But about 40 minutes ago, X-man woke up demanding ice for his leg (which doesn't work in the cast, but appeared to help him in the splint) and band-aids. My husband, wanting to help X-man go back to sleep, was running around the house like a mad man looking for band-aids -- hoping the symbolic gesture would make X-man happy.

But in reality, besides administering his Motrin and trying to get him to keep his cast propped up (which he won't allow) there's not much we can do for him. He's a stomach sleeper, which is a position that is pretty much impossible. So he just keeps turning around in bed, whimpering, crying, demanding ice, trying to cover himself in soft blankets and generally freaking out.

I was in the room for a while, but I served no purpose. He's not in a place where he can listen or be reasoned with, and he's getting old enough to realize that mommy's hugs and kisses don't appear to make all pain go away. He's mad with fatigue. Night is day. Day is night. Now I'm in my room listening, and I know there's no way I can get to sleep with him crying out like this. I'd trade places with him in a second, if I could.