Josiah, our three year old, awoke this morning surprisingly early. Since he had accidentally fallen asleep at 6:30 the night before and slept on through, I was not particularly alarmed. That is until I noticed him putting himself back down for a nap one hour after his 12 hour night.
The real alarm bells starting going off though when I heard he had been to Hannah (his favorite sister to order around) for “ice water, quick, to help my tummy.” Uh oh, we could have problem here. I recognize, after 26 years of preschool parenting, this unusual M.O.
With his chalky, pale face, his little body was pathetically curled up on the couch. Occasional moans caused all kind of theories to arise from the other children. He is probably just extra tired since he slept too long. Probably low blood sugar since he barely ate any dinner. I felt that way once just because I hadn’t eaten enough, another claimed.
I knew what was happening here was a case of collective denial. But honestly, I wanted to join their ranks and agree with all their theories.
Until our morning family devotion time. Josiah was looking worse; I could no longer deny it. As he whimpered, grabbed his tummy, and headed to mommy’s lap, I called for someone to go grab me a pan just in case we needed it.
I called a little too late. All that “ice water to help his tummy” that he had begged from all his siblings made its reappearance all over my lap. As well as the test run of breakfast.
Nothing like a good case of a stomach bug to alter the family outlook on the week. My actors were, in this case, foiled from some of their usual family roles. The actor trying to convince the masses that really this was just a case of random food poisoning, and therefore not contagious, did not even waste his breath. Last night’s dinner was non existent. The only acting role left was the theory that this was a “baby sickness” and therefore age bound. Nice concept. I go for that one.
Lucas, who always has a big race planned for the weekend, was out the door with a heaping clothes basket full of belongings within 15 minutes of the eruption. Grandma’s house for the week, he said, was calling him. (I wondered for just a moment if she had accommodations for two available.)
Should a mom really dread a case of stomach flu as badly as I do? That is the question I have tortured myself with for 26 years. And I guess, my historical answer would have to be yes. I am convinced it comes straight from the pit of hell to torment even the most godly of women.
Doug, my deepest thanks for 26 years of throw up clean up. You are my knight in shining armor! Have I ever really thanked you enough? I know I have no excuses since I was trained as a registered nurse. But honey, you know as well as I that I nearly lost it with my patients on a regular basis. And now that I don’t have any weak, pregnant systems to lean on, it must be your finest moment of selfless husbanding and fathering that you keep on cleaning. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Oh no! Quick, somebody, find the phone and call Dad! I think I hear Josiah calling!!
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