Sick baby part dunno of lots, 12/4/25

Once again, I am taking care of a sick baby. This time he’s less sick! By that I mean that he’s less sick than he has been in the very recent past. He was rocking a worryingly high fever until yesterday. It had just been climbing and climbing despite our best efforts. Yesterday we returned to the doctor’s office, got a solid reassessment, and were prescribed antibiotics (which Gibby has been doing his best to spray into my face while I dose him). Now his fever has dropped significantly and he’s merely hungry, sleepy, poopy, sometimes cranky, and full of head-gunk.

I’m not caring for this sick baby alone, thank goodness. Ley and I have been swapping off or stepping in for each other as extra support. I have come to feel, however, that the nuclear family model is designed to break you. A mere two adults caring for a sick baby—with baby-induced terrible sleep and everything else—is a recipe for suffering. It’s a recipe for suffering even when those two adults take time off work. There really ought to be two to four more people on call all the time so that people can sleep, or do anything other than care for the baby. Even one more person would be a big help.

I’ve had these thoughts before.

We might have been able to avoid this fever if we’d found a better way to manage his congestion from his fever two weekends ago. He produced lots of snot while fighting that (milder) fever. That was good, mucus helps! He didn’t manage to eject all that mucus though, and his resulting congestion likely fed his current ear infection—in other words, his body’s healthy reaction to the previous virus created fertile ground for this bacterial infection. Next time he gets snotty and feverish, we’ll need to find more ways to help him drain all the mucus instead of allowing it to linger and get infected.

Making Monsters

You’re a monster. If you’re a good monster, you’ll be able to resist your terrible urges for a long time. We like good monsters! You should be one. But eventually you’ll do something unspeakable and hurt those around you, those you love. Because you’re a monster. We all knew it would happen sooner or later. We were just waiting, dreading the day when you’d reveal how awful you truly are.

But there are other monsters out there who tell you that you aren’t a monster. None of you are. Just like them, you aren’t evil. Maybe you could use a better attitude, some self-improvement. Your new friends have lots of advice about that. But those others who tell you that you’re a monster? Lies. Jealousy. Those lies are sick mind games meant to control you, to trap you, told by liars trying to profit while you suffer.

You don’t have to listen to those lies. You just need to be stronger. You need to be harder, and faster, and better. You need to understand that those people who say you’re a monster, their opinions don’t really matter. They don’t really matter. You can do better without them. If you really want people like that in your life, make sure that you’re the one in control—not them.

After all, you’re the man.

Or maybe you have some other privileged identity, and the people telling you that you aren’t a monster are spinning a slightly different story. That’s not the important part. What really matters is that there are people who tell you that you should feel bad, and others who tell you not to worry about it. Which ones feel better to listen to? Which ones give you hope?

In case you couldn’t guess, this is a follow-up to Are Boys The Problem?

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