I almost got away with it. I almost made it through this last week as a â€˜single’ mom without killing my children or landing up in a mental home. Just as I was about to give myself a well deserved pat on the back or better yet, break into my very own utterly embarrassing rendition of MC Hammers “Can’t touch this”, Murphy showed up to make an asshole out of me.
Literally 24 hours before husband was due home I woke Brody from his nap and was greeted with a fairly impressive amount of projectile vomit. How these little people manage to contain that amount of food and liquid is beyond me. We were due to go to the Waldorf fun fair where would spend our last evening alone and daddyless, with our friends.
I thought I got away with it
Now to throw a spanner in the works, Benji got caught in cross fire (OR vomit should I say?) and had to be washed before we could go anywhere. The best way for me to express just how important Benji is would be like this: Although we have only two children, we always no matter where we are, have to do a headcount, Benji always making up number 3. When we leave the front door, Benji is always there tucked under Brody’s arm, another significant part of the family. On our return home, we do another head count to make sure the fur ball is still with us. In essence he is Brady’s twin and has come to hold a very special place in all of our hearts. After giving Benji a much-needed bath and a rather aggressive towel dry, we got in the car, refusing to face the facts and admit something was brewing. We headed off anticipating an afternoon of rides, music, awesome shows and ice cream!
I though I got away with it.
Surprisingly Brody perked up and although he didn’t want to eat anything he was happy to run around and explore. The fact that he didn’t want ice cream should have been a sure sign he wasn’t well, but like I said, denial is a powerful tool. We managed to even get through dinner and bath time with friends over a bottle of wine, without any further throw up.
I thought I got away with it.
When we arrived home he seemed ok. We read two books, I gave him his bottle, sang him a song and he went to sleep easily like every other night. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I thought I got away with it.
An hour later I had my movie disturbed by what sounded like choking and a rather disturbing gurgling sound. I ran through to Brody’s room and found him sitting in his cot with what looked like enough vomit to fill a small swimming pool. And then it hit me.
I had gotten away with sweet nothing.
The funny thing about life and parenthood and all the stuff you learn along the way is that we should know very well by now that we have no control over any of it. We love to feel like we do, that we have all out little duck in a row, that we are invincible. We love to ignore the warning signs and believe the best. Sometimes this comes to back to bite is the ass, because when we finally come off the pedestal, when we finally get bucked off the high horse of a perfect life, we have to face the mess. And it not fun. I didn’t get away with it after all.
It’s been 48 hours of vomiting and raging temps. Things got so much worse so quickly that last night we ended up in hospital with a temp of close to 40, which just wasn’t coming down. We certainly got away with diddley squat but here’s the honest to god truth:
These life interruptions that present themselves to us from time to time can actually serve to remind us of the things we start to forget. Here are a few life lessons we learned during the last 48 hours:
- Kids are resilient. As much is it’s the worst thing in the world to see your babies suffer, the fact of the matter is they usually bounce back pretty quickly. We remember how strong they are. We are reminded just how incredible the human body is.
- We see the sympathetic nature in each other. In the middle of the chaos at the hospital there was a moment where Noah took Brody’s hand and said The doctor is going to get you better Bodes: don’t worry. Il come back for you now ok? The nurses couldn’t believe the connection and love between these two, it was too beautiful. And while we were being admitted, the amount of strangers who showed their concern was so very touching. A sit turns out, people hate seeing babies sick
- We realize just how blessed we are to receive medical treatment when we are ill. I always lie awake at night after being disturbed for the millionth time to administer pain meds and wonder about the people who don’t have what we have. Those who cant afford doctors and medicine. The poor babies who just don’t get better because they don’t have money? Is this not a crime against humanity? My heart breaks for them and feels gratitude that we can.
- We are reminded about what truly matters. The fact that you go through every clean sheet in the house and have to shower off the puke every 2 hours means nothing when your baby is sick. Add to that the worrying about plans, work, and the sleep you didn’t get the night before. These things are nothing in the greater scheme of things.
- We appreciate the team effort. It quite simple. Last nights trip to the hospital would have been a whole lot worse without hubby being there. I’m grateful for a man who is calm in those chaotic moments, who whispers to me gently everything is going to be ok . Special mention needs to made here for the single parents truly are the biggest heroes. There are no words for the amount of respect I have for them.
You see, despite the fact that our lives are momentarily turned upside down, we find the goodness in our situation. We realize that the mess holds a beautiful significance and as we are forced to join hands and ultimately, survive the puke invested madness, we learn to remember what truly matters.