This time last week I was ready to ship Andrew off to boarding school or military school or Camp Grandmama so if he really needed to scream about the injustices of being asked to pick up his toys, he could. And I wouldn't have to hear it.
This week though we were given a gift. A gift of germs. A gift of vomit and diarrhea. And so we slowed down, hit the couch, watched Nemo and Ratatouille several times, took long naps and reconnected. There was less whining, more cooperation, and as I said before, way more hugs.
Maybe it is the mothering hormones of pregnancy, or even the mothering hormones of mothering, but I rose to the 'challenge' of caring for my son with an incredible amount of laundry, a thorough cleaning of his room and toys and a deep, deep well of patience. Throwing up all over the floor I just mopped? It's ok. We'll clean it up. A diaper change every 20 minutes? No problem. Let's get you in clean clothes.
Our family seems to be getting hit with bug after bug and I think I should feel a little beaten down. But mostly I feel strong and resourceful. A good and useful engine. And close to my family. And I'm hoping there is some residual effect to this bout of illness and connection, well after the last yucky load of laundry is clean, folded and put away.
1 comment:
Does being pregnant help keep you from coming down with all of these bugs? You seem good and healthy while your men keep falling around you. Literally. ;)
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