It's been a day. One I am sure most the mothers in the world can identify with in one way or another. There were late night tears as a result of a feverish forehead. There was early morning cuddling burning hot bodies until the medicine kicked in and cooled the fever. There was lots of wiping throw up off the bed, the carpet, the tile, the wood floor, the toilet. There was some dry heaving (by me) as said throw up was being cleaned (one can only take so much!). There were gatorade runs. There were about a million hugs and I love yous.
Sick days test my very core. Mya woke up late last night and gave me a terrible fright. I'm not sure what she has, but she didn't have it when she went to bed last night, but she woke up feverish, nauseated and achy. At first sight of her this morning, I told her school was out of the question and had her march right back to bed. She stayed there for three hours without moving her body more than 6 inches. I'd come in and check on her every so often, but her lifeless body didn't want to do anything. Not even read. And Mya loves to read.
I did my best to care for her while distracting the other three babies that so badly demanded my attention today. I held her hair as she missed the toilet. And I whispered "It's okay" a handful of times when she'd look at me with those big, brown, worried eyes because she didn't make it to her destination in time. Tonight as I placed my cheek on her extra warm cheek, she whispered "thank you" in my ear. She knew I struggled today, but she was patient with me.
I'm not sure how we do what we do each day--men and women alike. I feel like even on my hardest days, I somehow muster the courage and strength to do a little more than I think I can do. I take an extra step forward, even if it kills me inside (much like today). I'm grateful for days like today that help put things in perspective and remind me how much help we all need from time to time.