The Prednisone Blues

This blog was originally posted on December 19, 2008 at http://www.parentclick.com/BlogPost.html?id=856

So the kids are sick.

Yeah, it's a common thing. They get sick, crabby, whiny, and lay around all day, coughing in your face.

But the Great Illness of Holiday Season 2008 is something different. It's not that my Jenna woke up with dried blood on her nose (our best guesses attribute it to either the dry air or a middle-of-the-night bump of the nose), or that Riley is back on his breathing treatments (to treat a pneumonia-type infection in his lungs).
No, this time it's the prednisone.

It's that little steroid the doctor prescribed, that hateful, vile venom that's currently making my life difficult.

The doctor warned us that it affects kids in different ways. "He might get a little cranky," she said. She may as well have been a meteorologist saying the upcoming hurricane will be making conditions a bit breezy.

Gone for the moment is the sweet little boy who hugs his sister a little too tightly and sleepily asks "Where are we going tonight?" every morning as we ready him for preschool. In his place is a screaming, punching, vicious little cuss who will not be tamed.

The morning ritual has changed from a minor annoyance to an all-out street fight, as Riley struggles, twists, kicks, runs, and screams to stay under the covers, then to keep his PJs on, then to keep his school clothes off.

We had to brush his teeth "the hard way" this morning, something I've had to do only once before, and his customary post-brushing prize-a vitamin-became the morning's hottest point of contention.

Immediately after "the hard way" brushing, Riley, giving the same dilated-pupiled look my cat used to give after he caught a whiff of catnip, immediately screamed "I want my vitamin!" following it with a wail and a choked sob. I reminded him his sister was still asleep, and if he wanted a vitamin, he'd be wise to lower his voice.

This did nothing, of course. He continued to scream louder, and the authoritarian in my immediately sprang to action, declaring that he would not be experiencing the fruity goodness of his gummi vitamins this morning. Not at all.

The battle continued down the stairs, as he refused to go quietly. "I want my vitamin! Please give me my vitamin!" (I have to give it to him that when the chips are finally down, he will try playing the polite card).

The refrain repeated , a bellowing "Vitamin! Vitamin! Vitamin!" like he was a skipping Anthrax CD.

But it was a battle he wasn't going to win, as we finally got his shoes and coat on (and dressed his sister, who had almost no cough left and was as chipper and cheery as a chipmunk) and headed out the door.

But it is ultimately a battle of attrition, no winners, only losers. Ultimately none of us gets what we want (Riley never got his vitamin, we never got our peace), and chances are he didn't learn much of a lesson, because his tantrum was largely drug-induced.

Patience, of course, is the rule, and lord knows we were patient; behavior like he demonstrated would have normally led to a trip to the corner or something even more drastic, but he got off with only warnings and verbal reprimands.
So the question remains: did we do it right?