So, A picture is worth a thousand words, but in some cases, I'd rather have the 1,000 words. Last night is a perfect example. Hunkey had been feverish for most of the day. Part way into the night he ended up in bed next to me so that I could keep an eye on him better. About 3 AM I felt him flopping and breathing shallow and knew it was time for more Tylenol. I groggily trudged down the stairs to get it. About 1/2 way down I overstepped a stair and THWONK... thwonk, thwonk, thwonk. I bounced down the next few stairs on my tail bone. I sat there stunned for a minute, then slowly made sure that I was still in one piece. (One of my still-intact pieces hurt way more than I ever imagined it could hurt, but I knew that structurally, I was ok.) Since I still had a feverish child upstairs, I had to finish my errand. I got the medicine and went back up to our bed. I handed Matt the medicine then sunk down onto the floor in a wave of nausea. I do not recommend a super-size dose of adrenaline on an empty stomach! Matt -- only half awake and unaware of my true discomfort made a funny remark, "Did you drop a bowling ball down the stairs?" I did not find it amusing. When he realized I was hurting, he braved the treacherous stairs and went and got me some Advil. About an hour later I was able to fall back asleep. One HALF hour later, Maddo came in to our room. "Mom, I peed." She quietly announced. Granted the fact that she has been peeing by herself in the potty for several years now, I knew she was not telling me this in order to get praise for using the potty correctly. My heart sank. Why do the children never come in to our room in the middle of the night and say things like, "Dad, I peed." Or "Dad, I just barfed all over my bed, brother and floor." It is always, Mom that they want. I painfully got out of bed and helped her through that clean up. Approximately another half hour passed and then she woke me up again because she was scared. I tucked her in beside me and hoped that this was the last interruption of the night. I don't think I ever really got back to sleep.
I love this parenthood thing. Many of you could tell stories that are way worse. Why do we do this to ourselves, and keep having kids? I think that part of why I love my kids so much is because I have to do hard, awful, gross things for them that I would never do for anyone else. I know it is a true principle that we love those we serve. So, by serving our children in such difficult, inconvenient situations it must help us to love them "really a lot." (That's a Hunkey term.) I'm just glad that such a night as last night is rarer now that our children are older. I'm also glad that I don't have pictures of the ordeals of the night. A feverish child, Mother sprawled on the steps and bedroom floor, A sad-faced, pee soaked child, and 4 people crowded into one bed are not the pictures I'd want to have in my scrap book! Hee hee!
I hope all of you have a peaceful sleep tonight, and wake up in the morning grateful!
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