The girls and I stayed home yesterday, the three of us were a sniffling, watery-eyed, please-hold-me mess. I could write about some of the rosey times– the fireside cuddles, the eskimo kisses and sweet orange-juicy toddler breath, or I could let down my guard.
I could tell you, in hushed tones, how very hard it was. I could reveal that I wanted to curl up and sleep, have Sean stroking my brow and that I didn’t want to help anyone go to the bathroom. I might even be able to admit that when Briar woke up from her nap after 20 minutes I wanted to weep and rage, instead I brought her in bed with me and pretended to listen as she read to me, chastising me every few pages for not paying enough attention.
Later I made them the soup they asked for and when they didn’t eat it I felt stung. When they abandoned the third project I scraped together and began high sticking with Swiffers in the kitchen and I saw that the clock read 11:17am I feared I wouldn’t make it. My head throbbed, I felt as if the ligaments between my legs and pelvis were shearing, my sciatic nerve was piercing me to my core and the idea of 10 more hours as a single, sick parent made my stomach turn. If I were really brave and you swore not to tell I could admit, while choking back tears and bile, that when they wouldn’t nap in the afternoon and when it felt like we had been caged inside for 72 hours, I yelled.
I felt like a colossal failure and bit the insides of my mouth with fury. The fury was at myself, not the girls and when after 40 minutes I gave up and called the victor of the nap battle to unanimously be the girls, there was relief. Should I have caved? Maybe not. Do I think if I were given a do-over I could change how it played out? No.
It just isn’t going to be perfect, the best I can hope for is not to hurt them. Never, ever to hurt them. There are things you don’t say, actions you don’t indulge, no matter how badly the circumstances or your own weakness might demand. And so, we made it. We woke today with smiles and cuddles…still sniffling, still needy, but slightly less desperate, and, most importantly, not wounded.
Today I am grateful to feel like I can say these things to you and even more grateful to say, “Thank God Dad is home.”
So glad it's Saturday & you have reinforcements.
Take care, and may everyone – especially you – nap easy today.
ah yes, Thank God for Daddy.
Hurray for Daddies and new days. Making it through is the best you can hope for sometimes.
Being sick on top of being preggers is the pits. And being sick on top of being preggers and having to care for two sick gorgeous babes is, well, we all know…it's a special kind of hard. Enjoy the weekend with an extra set of hands and feet, and see if you can put your own feet up for a spell.
thanks for always being so honest. it helps us all feel normal and real.
i just wanted to pop over and say hi and thanks for stopping by. your comment made me laugh, and i needed that.
yippee for daddies! i hope you're feeling better! put your pregger feet up and try to get some rest. 🙂
Thank god indeed!! Feel better, you guys!
Oh thank God for 2 parent homes! It's SO hard to do it by yourself and when you're sick? You have to cut yourself some slack.
Dude, I used to have at least one of these days every week when my first two were smaller. It just makes the good days seem that much sweeter.
when they didn't eat it I felt stung
ugh I cannot tell you how many times I have felt that betrayal when under the weather. Hang in there.