Tips for taking children to see fireworks.
- Don’t. Just don’t. Tell them 4th of July has been cancelled. Blame Trump if you need to. Save yourself the agony.
I’m currently running on Diet Coke and a bladder just full enough to keep me awake.
Monday, Rowan spiked a fever and started having trouble breathing. He was a lethargic mess until we got a nebulizer and some albuterol into him. He barely slept, which means I barely slept. Tuesday morning I took him to Urgent Care. A kid in respiratory distress will get you back and into a room posthaste. He got more Xoponex and a burst of steroids and felt a lot better.
Since he needed sleep, I took Lorelei down to watch the fireworks. She was tired from a long day at the museum but also hyped up on firework adreniline. She did not stop talking for two hours. She asked me at least 52 times if the fireworks were starting soon. She bitched and moaned because I wouldn’t walk the half mile down to where she thought we would be able to see them better. My inner spring was winding tighter and tighter. I tried to do all the things my therapist talks about but really there is just no way to be fucking peaceful and accepting when your kid is angry that the fireworks have started and she is missing them (the fireworks had not started and she had not missed them).
After the surprisingly mediocre finale, I wanted to beat a fast retreat to back to the car to get home. Lorelei, in true child fashion, walked absolutely slowly as humanly possible. The sloth in Zootopia talked faster than she walked. You could use her pace to track the movement of the earth.
We finally got home and Lorelei went directly to bed. Then our neighbors decided to shoot off fireworks. Not sparkles. Not even cute little fountains. Nope. Full on, illegal, bottle rockets, roman candles, and small mortars soaring into the air.
It sounded like it was right outside my window.
BECAUSE IT FUCKING WAS.
Also, Rowan’s window.
Y’all, I’m not an unreasonable person. I am generally pretty damn chill when it comes to noise. However, after my terrible night, long day, and exhausting fireworks adventure, I was out of chill. There also was not really a lot I could do about it, so I mostly bitched on Facebook. I wasn’t going to go out and ask them to stop because walking directly into the path of fireworks seemed like a bad plan. I could have called the police but honestly, I figured they had better things to do and also a million other illegal firework calls to deal with.
Every time I thought they had stopped, it turned out they were just reloading.
I didn’t want anyone to be harmed but I was wishing for some singed eyebrows, at least. Even a little yard fire that they would have to explain to their landlord.
Eventually, it started pouring rain. I hope every firework got soaked because if they start setting them off again tonight I’m going to lose my shit.
After they finally shut the hell up, Rowan woke the hell up coughing. I gave him a nebulizer at 1:30 am. Then another at 4:30 am. My alarm went off at 6:05 am. He tossed and turned and couldn’t get comfortable the rest of the time.
Of course, he is totally happy despite the events of the last two days and the sleep deprivatio they caused.
He spent some time filling out important paperwork at the ENT today.
And he does a wicked impression of Bob Dylan singing Cyndi Lauper.
He is so freaking cute.