We did nothing today other than stare at one another and pass the tissue box. It was a warped, prolonged game of Hot Potato. Only in our version, you wanted the hot potato (tissue box) when the timer buzzed (the timer being any random sinus cavity).
James fell asleep at seven - this, from the child who stays up until midnight reading - and he just barely made it through a chapter of The Horse and His Boy. Smidge didn't make it through supper, and I'm not sure when or how John got to bed because Emily and I were out cold beside James.
So why am I up at three in the morning? Because when you are two and you wake up but find you cannot open your eyes, you cry for Mama. And Mama responds the same way Mamas have always responded, by instinct: make it better. Mama responds by rushing to your room and scooping you into her arms, reassuring you that it's okay (not because she has any clue what's wrong yet, but simply because she is here, and you believe her). She responds by washing your face gently and coaxing your eyelashes apart one by one; by cuddling you tightly and kissing your hair, your forehead, your cheeks; by slathering you with things to clear your nose, and calming your Very Scared Little Self. Then you feel better, because Mama made it better. And you snuggle under your fleece blanket, kiss your soft toy goodnight and drift off to happy two year old's dreams.
Meanwhile, Mama stays awake several hours longer, checking in on you. Are you breathing? Are you okay? Are you spiking a fever? Are you dehydrated? Is she missing anything? Is the path to the hallway clear? Should she bring you to her bed? Should she sleep on the floor where she is near you and your siblings? Should we all live in a one-room house to eliminate these questions? Is the baby still safe? Are you okay now? Come to think of it, is Daddy alright? Mama has work to do, after the crisis has been averted. And so, Mama is blogging between rounds she must make before she is assurred that All Is Well and she can go back to sleep.
Well, this isn't leaving the house easily, and so I do believe it is time to call a doc and see if perhaps there's something bacterial that has invaded the house along with the viral ick. Thankfully, today wasn't Friday!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
7 comments:
You should have called...I was making the same rounds. ;)
Is there anything more unsettling than a raspy, rattly, gaspy baby? She's much better this morning, thank goodness.
Waving a tissue in salute to a fellow night watchmama...
Oh, the poor babies! Crusty, gunky eyes and noses are just the most miserable. I know what you mean about needing to keep checking and checking them when they are sick.
Sending wishes & prayers for good health your way,
Melora
{{{{hugs}}}}
::::Passing you some hot tea with honey and another box of tissue::::
The visual here is touching(and familiar). Hoping healthier days are coming soon... Marcella (Trying not to feel too envious that Zorak can cook steaks AND cobbler. You have a lot to be thankful for!!)
Oh dear!! Poor Smidge and poor everyone, that just sounds plain lousy. Isn't it wonderful though how we Mamas can make things so much better though when things seem so scary for a little one? One of the greatest things about being a Mama, I think... not that you want them to hurt and be sick, but it is so satisfying and heartwarming that there are things you can do to ease and comfort them.
And I had to chuckle at the one bedroom house idea... there are times where that has a definite attraction!
You are a good mama, Dy. Feel better soon. And thanks for the call! Miss y'all
Melissa
I hope your babies are feeling better! I am sorry they are sick but you paint a great picture of nighttime parenting- and the special job of a mother to comfort her little ones when they are in distress.
Don't you wish we could have decontamination chambers at our front doors to zap away all those yucky germs? ;)
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