E had a pretty intense fever creeping onto his little cheeks close to bedtime last night. I can always tell when he feels like absolute poop, because his cheeks brighten and he becomes a heated little blob of cuddle. Now, let's get something straight. I hate seeing my baby sick. It's the worst feeling in the world. But in all honesty, when I know the sickness isn't all that serious, I thoroughly enjoy the sweetness of the heated little blob of cuddle. And that's exactly what I did last night....right up until "every 4 hours" crept up and it was time to medicate the heated little blob of cuddle one more time before bed.
Here's a question for you. What is the sight that will make a heated little blob of cuddle turn into a shreiking ball of terror that would most certainly cuss me if only he knew how? What sight would this be? What could possibly induce such fear and dread in a feverish toddler?
Mommy holding the Tylenol...and God forbid...a medicine spoon.
In the same instance that E's little eyes fell on the bottle of glossy red syrup, he threw his blanket over his head, secured it in place tightly with his hands, and began hollering, "I don't wike it! I don't wike it! I DOOONNNN'T WIIIKKKKKEEEE IT!"
I spent the next 30 minutes trying to hide acetaminophen in pudding, jello, applesauce, and juice...but my toddler could not be fooled. His jaws were clamped tight, and not even a "chocolate cracker" (A.K.A. an Oreo) could entice him to open up. I tried reasoning with him, but he just wasn't having it. So I did what any loving mother would do...
I held him down in the floor and poured Tylenol down his throat while he screamed. He immediately gagged and spit half of it right into my face, but I felt satisfied that about half of it went down. This was good enough for me. I spent the NEXT 30 minutes rocking my heated little blob of cuddle telling him how sorry I was that I had to do that. I told him I loved him and didn't want to see him sick. Then I told him he could have all the chocolate crackers he wanted if he would promise to take his Tylenol without a fight next time...and still swear to love me. (I have no shame.)
It occurred to me during "The Great Tylenol War of 2009" that this is probably the same stance God has been taking with me lately. I think God has been trying to gently coax me into trusting Him for quite some time, but it has been a bitter medicine for me to swallow. And as much as I hate to admit it, I think it's come down to the last straw.
God is bending over me, medicine dropper poised in His mouth, ready to watch me kick and scream if that's what it takes to get the healing stuff in my system.
Ok God...I give. I get the picture. I know that when life is sluggish, you have the balm that will heal it all. I trust that you know what's best for me. I trust that while the medicine might be bitter for a moment, that you will make it better for eternity. Thank you for knowing when I need your medicine, and thank you for loving me even after I spit it back in your face.
But God...just so we're on the same page....you will find me highly cooperative when promised chocolate crackers. Should you decide to go this route next time, they are in the cabinet...right next to the Tylenol.