I can remember so many times being so
sick and my mom just kept taking care of me. Tea, crackers, calamine
lotion, tissues, chicken soup, another blanket. She always took such good care of me. And when I think of the number of times she had to wash my quilt, because I'd puked on it, I am amazed at the level of her patience and her continued care of me.
It's what we do, us moms. We take care
of little ones. We wipe up vomit off the floor because short one
didn't quite make it to the toilet or bucket. We scrub unders in the
sink cause whatever nasty bug has taken hold of our child has caused
incontinence (the joys). It's gross, but we do it. We do it because
we love our children and we don't want to see them suffering. It's
hard on their little bodies. They are always so energetic and busy
that the lethargy is kind of startling. These unmoving little people
whose energy stores are completely sapped.
As adults, we suck it up and carry on
because there is still laundry, and meals, and cleaning, and
chauffeuring to be done. But, for me, it breaks my heart when my
kids are sick. All I can do to try and make them comfortable. And
try and not be in the line of fire when the projectiles start firing,
cause being woken up at 12:30am to retching and a wet feeling all
over my shoulder and chest is really unpleasant. And the smell, oh
the smell. Full body shudder.
It's not always so gross. And I know
that the gross is not going to last. A few days at best. I stocked
up on soft foods (tofu), popsicles, and fluids (my fridge looks like
it could be on a pediatrics ward). Bought some more Advil and
Tylenol for their pain. Now we wait it out. Hope for the fevers to
break and something, anything, to stay down for more than 15 minutes.
Boredom settles in quickly. We watch
TV. Play with play dough. Learn new card games on the floor. Read
books. Puzzles. Just taking it really easy.
And watching the rain come down. . .
And running around the house with a can
of Lysol. I will vanquish you little viruses.
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