A Test of Motherhood

Flavor of Mommy

Flavor of Mommy (Photo credit: LizaWasHere)

It’s been a rather eventful 36 hours.  It started with my lunch yesterday not feeling so great going down.  It was a decent enough lunch – sandwich, carrot salad and tortilla chips.  I was going for something filling and vegetarian.  As the afternoon wore on, I started having to go to the bathroom more and more (I won’t go into more details than that).  I gagged down some of the pink stuff, dressed my toddler for our Wednesday night church activities and made the 35-minute drive to church.  I dropped my firstborn off for hand bells practice and went to park the car.  My toddler was excited about getting to swing on the swingset some, and I was happy to let her.

We never made it that far, though.  In the parking lot, waiting for my husband to show up, I started feeling worse and worse.  Finally, I had to get out of the car to vomit, leaving my poor little girl buckled in her car seat (I was no more than ten feet away).  I called my husband to find out how far away he was and to tell him what was going on.  Then I called a friend I had planned to check on after church to say I wasn’t going to make it.  My husband collected our older daughter and drove us home, after a stop at Target for some necessary items.  I lost the rest of my lunch in the Target parking lot.  My older daughter could climb over the seat to give me a hug; my toddler knew Mommy was sick and couldn’t hug me, which was more upsetting to her.

We made it home without further incident, and Peter assigned the older daughter the absolute perfect task for her.  She had to take care of me.  This translated into her bossing me around with a servant’s attitude all evening.  After getting into my bum wear and settling on the love seat with the amount of water she felt I should have (32 ounces!) and a trash can by my feet, I was good to read, watch TV, chat with a good friend and be miserable all night.

I finally staggered up to bed at around 11 and had a fairly fitful night, but blessedly, not very eventful.  When I slept, I slept hard, but a few things woke me up.  I woke this morning with my stomach feeling more settled but otherwise feeling as weak as a newborn kitten.  I ate a little, drank a lot, kept it all down and spent the day on the love seat with Victor Hugo.  In short, I rested and recovered.  What little fever I had broke around dinner time and though I feel sleepy, I feel well.  Good thing, too.

Around mid-morning, Peter started complaining of not feeling so great – and he was supposed to be the substitute teacher today.  Around bedtime, the firstborn started complaining that she didn’t feel good.  You could just see this coming, couldn’t you?  So, here it is, nearly 11 p.m., and I’m having to pause in my TV watching and chatting occasionally to hold a little girl’s head, give her water and wash her face after her dad and she have yet another synchronized puking session.  She didn’t make the trashcan the second time; her sheets are in the washing machine now.  I figure, if she messes up the current sheets, I’ll have fresh ones on hand.

So, here I am, facing a long night ahead.  My little girl just wants to sleep so she’ll feel better, and she asked if she had to do school tomorrow.  I’m not worried so much about her lessons; I’m just hoping she’ll feel well enough to play her soccer game Saturday morning.  Her grandma’s coming to watch her play and they’ve both been looking forward to this.

It’s a Mom thing, and I’m just really grateful that my family let me have this valuable day to rest today.  I’m also grateful for the moments on the phone with a friend, my escape for the day.  All this contributed to me feeling rested now so I’ll be well enough to take care of my family after they took such good care of me.  It doesn’t matter to me right now that there are dishes piled in the sink and laundry to do; these things will wait until at least my little one is well.

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