That Sound, That Horrible Sound!

Night before last, my 3-year-old, Fischer, woke me up about 2:00 a.m.  "Mommy, my tummy hurts. Can I sleep in your bed?"

First of all, the answer was, "No."  But we happen to have a random crib in our bedroom in which I placed him.  So he was sort of sleeping with us.  And sure enough, I checked his forehead and he was running a fever.  Gave him some Ibuprofen and rolled back into bed.  Just long enough to doze off before the 1-year-old started crying...typical night at our house.

Secondly, BLESS HIM for giving me warning.  He ended up never being tummy sick that night, but many of you mothers and fathers have been there...

I mentioned in a previous blog that I don't do anything quickly.  I move like molasses.  I think like molasses.  Until I started writing no one ever accused me of being funny because I thought of all my witty comebacks after the conversation was over and everyone had left the room.

But it only takes one time of waking up with vomit in your hair, of needing to replace every pillow you own, and of a disgusting brown stain forever on your mattress to train your body to move like lightning...

It's not unusual for my little ones to end up in bed with us before the night is over.  It results in disaster from on occasion.  Sometimes my husband wakes up to a backache from getting kicked throughout the night.  Sometimes I end up with a blinding headache from a head-butt that made me cry out in agony. (And yet Kellen didn't even break rhythm in his snore.)  Other days it's a diaper that leaked on your freshly washed sheets.  These first few mentioned...are disasters for pansies.  

The apocalypse of bedtime disaster is throw up.  I have become so trained that I can be in the most beautiful, deep, hard sleep and my brain WILL register the sound of a tummy rumble as it comes up the esophogus.  0.08 seconds after it starts my husband & I can be up out of bed, yelling, and running with the baby to the bathtub.  I'm really surprised I haven't face planted a baby into the wall because I've managed to have them into the bathroom before I've managed to actually pry my eyelids apart or have flipped a light switch.

Then you get to spend an hour or two cleaning up.  Usually I end up cleaning the baby and the bathroom while my sweet husband drunkedly scrubs the carpet and the bed.

It really does make for an adventurous evening as you collapse in exhaustion on top of a mattress covered in towels and wrap yourself in a musty blanket from the linen closet and pray that it doesn't happen again.

Thank you, Lord, for my wonderful washing machine with a "Sanitary" cycle.

Parenting changes everything to the core or your DNA.  It can make a slow person fast.