one down...

It's been a long two days. Our littlest came down with the bug that so many school kids have right now. I thought she was doing better, nothing too awful since last night except a fever. Then tonight after she ate a very small, very light dinner (a few goldfish crackers and two slices of apple)- it all came back.

I sat there holding her in my arms tonight. Like she never let me do when she was a baby. She was the one I couldn't get to cuddle with me. Not long enough to fall asleep. She gave in pretty easy tonight. It was surreal. Me holding her, staring into her beautiful face. Even asleep she looks like she's hurting. And that breaks my heart.

But only a little.

I have some perspective right now. This is only a stomach bug. It'll be over soon and my baby will be back to normal, making animal noises and ordering people around.

Just a few miles away though, a mom is looking into her son's face knowing it's not getting better. That breaks my heart a lot. I am helpless to change it for her. She is helpless to change it for him.

And I think, a few hundred miles away, closer to where my dad lives, in Connecticut- there are dozens of moms who'd give anything to be swabbing up kid vomit if it meant in a few days, they'd have their perky peanuts back.

It's amazing how easy this sickness has been to handle. Sure, there's extra laundry, a smelly carpet I'm struggling to get a funky smell out of, the end of the Christmas package shipping, packing up for a trip, cleaning the house, and all the other crazy stuff this time of year brings-- normally, a bug in the middle of this would send me over the edge. I'd be crazy mom and I'd be barking at my family, a lot. I'm not proud of it- it's just what happens.

This time, though. I feel quite serene. This is nothing. Even if I end up spending all my time in the airplane's lavatory in a few days- so what? I get to keep my kids a little while longer and they have me. I even get in some cuddles that I don't normally get.

I'm actually sentimental about it. Feeling weepy over it. I'm the lucky one. I'm the one who gets to tend to her and kiss her warm brow and stroke the back of her plump hands. It feels selfish somehow. A relief to know that this is quite temporary.

Tonight, as I keep a close eye on my little one, spending another interrupted night on a chair in my living room, I will be praying at those odd hours when I wake to help her. Praying for my friend Erica. And praying for Sarah. (I can't claim her as friend, but my heart is breaking for her everyday.)

Just one more moment for them, and the next. Please.