…this is my life.
Last night I found myself sitting naked in the kitchen holding a puking toddler for longer than I care to tell you. I had been snuggled in my bed reading a (fiction!) book relaxing from what had been too long a day. And we had just heard that a friend’s son had fallen from a 2nd story window onto concrete and I was shook up and sad, after we prayed for them I grabbed my book and tried to calm down.
It was about then that Kyler opened his door, sobbing, holding a stack of baseball cards tightly in his chubby little hand. I ran over to him, asked what was wrong, he mumbled, I tried putting him back in bed, offered water, offered to snuggle him, etc.
Then he threw up all over me. I ran to the kitchen, while hollering for Christopher’s help (he was on the computer in the family room). In one move, I stripped my puke-covered jammies off, sat down, grabbed a bowl, tried to catch the quickly coming additional vomit.
By about 3 AM Kyler had nothing left and finally rested for more than 30 minutes. I took another load of disgusting laundry out to the washer. I remembered what I had thought just this afternoon, “Wow, I caught up on 13 loads of laundry in 3 days…all by myself and I even folded it and put every bit of it away…this is pretty awesome. The only thing that could undo how awesome this is is a puke-fest kind of night where I do wash in my sleep!”
Oh the irony right?! But somehow shaking food chunks out the back deck at 1 AM I was honestly nothing but thankful. Fairly close to gushing gratitude in the midst of the grossness.
I was not at the local trauma hospital hoping my son’s brain and body would survive a bad fall.
I was not at Childrens Hospital like another friend of ours is with a sick little girl.
I am not worried about how we will eat or pay our mortgage like several people in our life are.
I am not sick, my family though maybe encountering a bit of a bug, is not truly sick.
My husband has a job to go to today. He will work his butt off on our behalf today.
Not knowing about my awful night, my older two kids got their baby sister out of bed and left me sleeping. They changed her diaper, got her dressed, made her breakfast, put her in the high chair, fed her, played with her. When asked by me if Daddy told them to help because I didn’t sleep, they were confused. They said no, he was gone long before they woke up. My heart bursted with love for them.
Watching Christopher spray the heck out of the nasty bedding in the backyard with a flashlight at midnight made me love him just a little bit more than I did yesterday.
Somehow despite no sleep,
not feeling great,
my husband being gone for 12 hours or more again,
and sick children…
We will get through the day.
Isn’t it amazing what a little bit of perspective does to the way we look at life? I am fairly blown away today just thinking about it.