Stop it. No, seriously. STOP IT.

So there are a million and one work stressors, which I won't even get into, because it's neither professional nor appropriate. Just trust me. Unusually stressful.

On top of that, since Friday, there have been no fewer than seven phone calls about my dad, who--according to himself and his girlfriend--is nearing the end. This would be sad enough on its own, particularly considering that I got to hear about it from him in his very weak, very shaky, very confused voice. But sadder still? From the outside looking in, I don't think it's all that near the end. He's still making phone calls, and he's still walking around the house. He's still even taking showers by himself. His girlfriend says he's spending enough time in bed that she thinks he has the beginnings of bedsores, but what I fear, paradoxically, is that he's not sick enough. He's sad and confused and you can just HEAR how terrified he is...and I think he's still got a ways to go. It seems unfair, somehow.

Then, yesterday, I got a call from Baroy, who had taken Em and N to see the 'kids' from Harry Potter put their handprints onto the Hollywood Walk of Fame. His car had overheated; he thought it was probably because his fluid levels were low, and it wouldn't be a big deal, but he was going to take it in to the mechanic's shop on his way home. $500 later, he has a new radiator. It's just money, but really...like we needed this?

But wait! There's more.

Yesterday evening--after seeing the Potter handprints, after swimming across the street in S and B's kiddie pool for hours, after having dinner at J's house (with Em swimming in J's 'real' pool and N just hanging out)--N looked like he might have either gotten too much sun or some mosquito bites or something. By the time he went to bed, it was definitely mosquito bites...or maybe a couple of hives. When he came up to my room at 1 AM, it was...I don't know what the fuck it was, but it was something else. Huge, burning red, itchy-as-hell splotches across his entire chest and belly, under his arms, on the inside of one leg and on the back of the other, across his shoulders, etc., etc., etc. I gave him a big dose of Benadryl, slathered him in this Aveeno product I have that's a mixture of calamine lotion, a skin anesthetic, and colloidal oatmeal, and made him sleep next to me in bed so I could listen to make sure he was breathing OK, since he was clearly having a full-body reaction to SOMEthing. (Baroy slept in N's bed; both of our kids are AWFUL to have to sleep next to even when there's only one other person in the bed. WHY do children insist on turning sideways on a queen-size mattress and either ramming you with their hard heads or kicking you with their hard feet? Sheesh.) So, yeah. THAT was a good night's sleep.

He seemed much better this morning, and all day...until around 5 pm, when they were over S and B's house again and Em called to say that N was "all red and blotchy on his back and his face and it's kinda scary."

Long story short, I Benadryl-dosed him again then dragged him over to Urgent Care where the so-brand-spanking-new-I-have-more-medical-experience-than-he-does doctor took one look at him...and went to get an attending. Thank goodness. A real doctor. (I hate July, when the latest crop of newly minted physicians is loosed upon an unsuspecting public.) I was thinking this might be a viral rash rather than an allergic reaction, because his nose was stuffy and he was coughing, but the doc said no, that it was likely the other way around, and the stuffiness and coughing was a result of the allergy to we-have-no-idea-what that was causing these blotches. He showed me the difference (a viral rash doesn't turn white when you press down on it, for instance), gave us a prescription for a low-dose steroid ("to make sure it doesn't get a chance to get into his windpipe and affect his breathing"--yup, I'll be sleeping well again tonight!), told me to keep up the Benadryl and Aveeno, and sent us on our way with orders to try and see The Best Pediatrician In The World, who we haven't visited in a long time due to my lack of good insurance, in the next day or so.

I know. It's not like the world is ending. But, really. My job, my dad, my car...and now my kid? What happened to the frickin' rule of three? Shouldn't I have gotten a break by now?

I'm expecting the locusts to arrive in the morning.