It's Precious, But Not Pretty

Had a bit of a rough night, but who needs sleep anyway? I woke up at midnight (after just passing out at 11:00 p.m.) to my daughter crying. I go in and she's all disoriented, jittery and feverish. She's got a roaring fever and her stomach is cramping. I rush her to the bathroom, cuz I'm sure the throw up is coming. Not yet. So I grab a cold washcloth, a large towel, the "throw up bowl" and the Motrin and bring her in to bed with me. You are such a mom when you don't care that your feverish, gonna-throw-up-any-second, daughter is resting, mouth agape, two inches from you. Breathing on you. She's so hot, she's making you hot. The sheets hot. I caress her forehead, trace the length of her arm. There's something about when your child gets sick that is precious. Now this is not the sicky stuff I'm talking about. Throw up is not precious. Just that it forces you to stop. To stop and really focus on them. That running list of things to do in your head takes a 24-48 hour vacation. I don't have to tell you that life is busy. Raising kiddos and keeping the ship afloat is busy. But there's something about when your child is ill that makes time stand still. All you want to do is hold your child. Kiss them. Tell them, "it's gonna be okay." You have the patience you didn't have five minutes ago. You have all the right words.

Today, we will stay in our pj's all day. We'll watch High School Musical 1 and 2. We'll play Hannah Montana Uno and Connect Four. Take naps. I'll ignore the bathrooms I planned to clean today. That the cat fell off the washing machine (long story)--twice--last night and spilled his food all over the floor. I'm ignoring that too. We'll have a tea party with bananas, rice, applesauce and toast. And even though I'll have Clorox wipes and a Lysol bottle glued to my hip and keep her sister at a 10 feet distance, I'll thank God for this precious time. And pray that A and I don't get the throw ups.