Something's Gotta Give

So I know it's the start of Christmas vacation and people are out of town and that there might not even be anyone who reads this and to be honest, that doesn't matter anyway because this is just an old fashioned venting session from one tired mom.

We are still sick!! We've been perpetually sick since almost two weeks ago, and not just with running noses and colds but with some kind of persistent stomach virus. We thought we were in the clear after Jack got it, but then Ellie threw up again Saturday night and we missed church Sunday. THEN we thought we were in the clear, and I woke up this past Tuesday morning with the bug. Fortunately mine passed fairly quickly although I've felt the risidual effects for days after.

Yesterday we were rejoicing in having Eric home for a week and a half, in starting our weekend together, in time for relaxation and enjoyment, and the fact that we were all finally feeling better. No more cranky children (or no more than usual!), no more meal restrictions, no more headaches and fevers and yucky smells...house cleaned and sanitized, ALL laundry done...we're talking happy times here, folks!

But then we were awakened around midnight last night to a little pathetic cry over the monitor, "Mom-meeee! Mom-mee!!" As I was walking toward the kids' bedroom door and reaching for the door handle, I smelled the distinct odor of vomit--with the door shut!--so you can just imagine the magnitude of what I found inside. Library books covered, carpeting, all bedding and Important Blankies and Stuffed Friends, soaked jammies... Eric whisked Jack away for a midnight bath while I tried to clean things up with little light, although poor Ellie still woke up. Sweet thing just lay there, still, eyes blinking, watching me strip and scrub and carefully stack books for further cleaning in the bathroom...

What a night. After cleaning him we had to do a load of laundry before he could return to bed, so we put in a movie and sat down with him...nothing like a little Shrek 3 at 1 am. After getting him tucked into bed finally, we fell into bed ourselves, only to be awakened at least three more times during the night by his sad cries to be held. (Our pillow talk last night consisted of, "I think it's your turn this time.") Then around 4:30 or 5:00 he awoke again, screaming, and would NOT be comforted, by now waking his sister, who was also about to hyperventilate from her own crying... Eric brought Jack out to the couch to try to settle him down, but every time he tried returning him to his room we were all rattled by his sudden screams and cries, which then would wake Ellie again...and this repeated itself until we finally faced the fact that it was after 7 am and we had just better get up for good.

We are exhausted. We had grand plans for the day--a little Christmas shopping, grocery shopping, Christmas caroling--and now all I want to do is sleep. I know there are bigger problems in the world, I keep telling myself that. I know many people have very sick children and the live daily lives of exhaustion. I know we will eventually make it though this. I just don't feel like I'm very rational or clear-headed right now, and it seems to magnify all my anxieties and annoyances and repulsions at the yucky laundry waiting to be scrubbed clean...

I know that the song "Something's Gotta Give" is refering to some sort of love connection, but that's the phrase I kept hearing in my head every time I was startled from my sleep last night by screaming children. Can I just admit for the record that this part of parenting is really, really hard? A young newlywed at church recently told me that his wife gets baby fever every time she's around our kids and tries to coerce him into starting their family with pleas of, "But Annika and Eric have kids and they're so cute!" Hm. As much as I appreciate the compliment, and can certainly understand the sentiment as I sometimes felt the same as a newlywed...I thought of this girl last night, laying there in bed, and wished I could call her up and explain, in detail, what was going on.

Don't get me wrong--I love, love, love, love being a mom. I love that my son is standing by my side as I type, poor sick little thing, asking to watch "D-Eggo" (Diego) on the "PU" (computer) and that when I told him he'd have to wait, he said, "Jack. Weet." So he's standing there resting his precious warm head on my arm watching me. (Now he's in my lap.)

So yes, this wonderful amazing thing called parenting is hard just as it is good. This just happens to be one of the hardest stretches yet.

Thanks for listening, Blogworld. I feel just a tad bit better having sent my ramblings off into space...and now I'm off to see about that nap.