Despite my best efforts, I'm really very bad at vacations. I do crazy things like work all the way through them. I also do crazy things like get zero sleep and FAIL MISERABLY AT PARENTING OMG.
To make a very long story short, Friday night as an epic failure at our house. It was the sort of fail where you find yourself begging your toddler to just sit still and go to sleep and OMG WHY ARE WE AWAKE, CHILD STOP KICKING ME IN THE FACE QUIT MOVING OMG SLEEEEEEP PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE. I gave up on trying to get Mila to sleep in her on crib about two hours into the night and gave up on anyone getting any sleep an hour after that. She couldn't sleep and she couldn't sit still and OOF.
It all made sense when the sun rose for the day and I went to get her dressed.
Hives. The kid was covered in hives. So many hives. Hive city. NO WONDER SHE WOULDN'T SLEEP.
"Hive" is a weird word, for the record. It sounds gross, even. And mean. It's definitely mean word. It's the sort of mean word that has fangs and drools as it snarls at you.
The assumption at the time was that some new bubble bath was an evil jerk who invited the hives to a unsanctioned party. I called the Zyrtec police and they broke up the party. The hives seemed to have gone home to their mom's basement.
Alas, the next day they came back. And they brought friends.
I was very chill about the whole thing the first time. Things happen. Toddlers are delicate flowers that sometimes can't handle new experiences. A few hives are no big deal. The second time, though? The second time I was not amused. The second I saw that the hives had returned in multiples, I stuck Miss Mila in her car seat and took her straight to urgent care.
Drugs, man. They are magical. While there is reason to question whether or not the bubble bath is to blame for the whole incident, Mila is 100% better and then some.
But I'm still a jerk for not realizing she had hives and THAT was why she couldn't sleep. And I suck for losing a day of vacation to something as dumb as hives.
Hives, man. They're mean.
