For the last week, my house has been transcended by the plague. A horrible cold has passed it's way through each of us and then back again putting Carter and me into a relapse that was worse than round one. I do not do well as a sick mother. The combination of wanting sleep and having things needed of me are not a good mix. It has been one of those weekends where I felt terrible and took medicine that then upset my stomach. There is just no rest when you have a constant cough that is now compounded with the fear of that one cough that could cause loss of control resulting in a very bad day! It's bad enough to be 32 and continually keep your bladder empty in the event of a hard sneeze or cough, but this takes it to a whole new level!!
So today I woke up (about 2 hours after everyone else, thanks to a wonderful husband) to a very healthy and energetic little man. He pounced and jumped and dug knees and elbows into me that caused shooting pains into my already sore body. (If you have not yet given birth, are an adoptive mother, or a man, know that the physical pain of having a child continues....seemingly forever.....through the bumps, jumps, and head butts!!) I knew with Dain leaving for work this morning that I needed to find a way to entertain this burst of energy; this bearer of inertia; this living example of Newton's first law. So we got up and headed to the mall theater for cheap, seated entertainment. I felt very proud of myself in timing both lunch in the food court with movie then following. We worked our way through people to get in line for food, and then a mother's nightmare came true.
I felt a tug at my arm and I bend down to see what Carter wanted to say. I'm expecting to hear things like, "I want pizza" or "why is chick-fil-a closed" or "I don't like corn dogs , but instead it's words that send chills up my spine: "I'm gonna throw up." I panicked! My body went numb for a minute. How could this happen? I was not prepared for this! I'm not well enough to handle this....then, mom-mode took over. My chills departed, my headache subsided, my cough ceased (probably because I quit breathing, but none the less). I grabbed him by the arm and did everything but run to the bathroom, praying and watching him as his feet only skidded every few feet like a raft bouncing behind a speeding boat. Carter was making "the face": the, if I say a word, something might come out, face. In an instant the hall to the bathrooms seems 10 miles long. Like in some cliche horror film, the faster I walked, the farther my destination seemed. We made it. I flung the door open, slung him in front of a commode, and told him it was ok and to just throw up in the bowl but don't touch anything (you know, germs!!). He stood there for just a few seconds and then looked up at me with both perplexity and intuition and said,
"It's ok Momma! It was just a hook-ups! (hiccups) We can go now."
So much for low-impact entertainment...
