There are some days as a stay at home mother that absolutely seem to fly by. You go about your day and before you know it, it’s naptime. The converse of those days is what I like to think of as the marathon day.
The marathon day starts early and plods by, hour after hour. You scurry hither and thither but the tasks are endless, as are the hours until you get a break. If you’re lucky, you’ll get that break during naptime. If you’re not so lucky, you’ll be scurrying clear through naptime, too.
Aidan’s been sick since Tuesday night, turning the last three days into a horrid series of marathon days. The reason? He’s the bad kind of sick. The vomiting kind. This is absolutely the WORST kind of sick, because not only do you have a miserable kid who doesn’t understand why this is happening to him, you have mountains of foul laundry and unspeakable messes all clamoring to be cleaned up.
He seemed to be doing better yesterday before showering the kitchen floor with his dinner, and he hasn’t been able to keep anything down today. Making tings worse is, he’s so hungry and so thirsty and doesn’t understand why I just keep giving him a few ice chips at a time.
Poor kid. He’s miserable and just wants his mama to hold him, but his mama is unfortunately also responsible for making sure he has clean clothes to change into when he inevitable ralphs again. I’m so sick of looking at my washer and dryer I could cry.
It’s been a rough few days with no end in sight, and all I can think is that I’m glad half my children are still in my belly and therefore incapable of vomiting on me.
Little victories, no?