Very early this morning, at around 1 am (and I'm only calling that morning because technically, in some sick way, it IS part of the A.M.), my oldest, the one with pink eye, woke us up with her terrified screaming. She will be 4 in June and had her very first potty accident. It mortified her. I think she was more embarrassed than actually upset that she'd filled her onsie footie pj's with pee. At first I thought that maybe it was because she was getting sick or something and I was really concerned. Then I realized that it was because we'd had a stinkin tea (actually, pink lemonade) party about 30 minutes before bed. It was my fault that she'd had the accident. Not only did I foolishly let her drink what was probably close to 20 or more ounces of pink lemonade right before bed, I also didn't make her go to the bathroom before bed. She shares a bedroom with her 8 1/2 month old sister. Of course, her screaming woke up every one in the house... including our two boxers and the Baby Cat (our son's name for our bulldog). I knew she was upset and frustrated and really embarrassed so I tried to keep her smiling as I cleaned up the mess out of the carpet. Since the baby was now wide awake, she was standing up in her crib, looking down at me while I was cleaning it. She started laughing along with her older sister and then started jumping up and down on her mattress, cracking up. My oldest and I lovingly called her a dancing monkey. Which made us all laugh even more. As weird as it sounds, I think I will always cherish this moment. Although others may love my babies, no one will love them the way I do. And no one would be able to have as much fun with them at 1 in the morning while cleaning up urine.
After settling them both back down and tucking them back in, I crawled back into my own bed... just to find that my husband had brought our son into bed with us because he woke up also while my daughter was crying. He laid there and talked to me for well over an hour about Cars and Lightning McQueen. I was tired but it was adorable and I didn't mind one bit.
He is actually laying down next to me right now. Passed out... about an hour after he puked in my bed and on my floor. The poor kid had a fever all day. He and the baby. I'm pretty sure he's also getting pink eye... in spite of our efforts to keep our daughter and all her germs quarantined. I get nervous when he gets fevers. I know he survived a horrid experience that started with a fever years ago but it's because of that ordeal that I get especially nervous when he's sick. (You can mock me and say that I'm being over dramatic but until you're in my shoes, don't judge. I'll do the same for you.) Really. When he gets a fever, on the outside, I do my best to stay calm because I know it's what he needs but inside, I'm in panic mode. What made tonight special was how he treated me after he threw up.
We were putting the girls to bed in their room when he first started. When we walked into our room, he was still in progress and it all ended up on the bed, on him and on our floor. After getting him cleaned up and changed and getting the sheets in the wash, he sat on my lap on the lounge chair in our room while my husband steam cleaned the carpet. I was holding a cold wash cloth on his forehead and he sat up, turned around, kissed me and then, while stroking my cheek, told me that he was ok. It's almost like he was thanking me and reassuring me at the same time. And I needed it.
There are moments that only a mother (or a father really) can make something special out of. Some of the oddest moments, many of which should have been frustrating moments with my children, have turned into something beautiful and joyous. Like laughing at the "dancing monkey" while trying to soak pee out of the carpet. Or little fingers stroking my cheek, letting me know that everything is going to be ok. These moments are the ones I hold dearest to my heart. These are the moments that make every poopy diaper or every time out or every temper tantrum worth it. I live for these moments.
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