It felt like I had just fallen into bed, just closed my eyes, just drifted off to sleep when I felt the sharp jab in my ribs.
“Honey, Sam threw up in the crib. I need to you to wake up.”
(Which, let’s be real, really meant, “It’s disgusting and smelly, and I don’t want to do it.”)
Poor Sam. He has had a nasty cold for over a week, and now that it’s (mostly) settled into his chest, when he coughs too hard, he tends to throw up a little. Not a big deal, really. I stripped his sheets, remade the bed, tossed the soiled stuff in an empty basket, and tucked him back in. I was back in bed by 3 AM. It took less than 15 minutes. Just as I was drifting off, I thought, “Well there’s a great start to 2014!”
An hour later, Natalie woke up to eat. I stubbed my little toe on the way to the couch. Then I sat on a toy that had worked its way between the cushions. When I crawled back into bed, I discovered that Kenny had stolen all the covers. “Wow. 2014 REALLY sucks!” I thought to myself as I fought for a corner of sheet.
Natalie woke me up again before 8 AM. (Someone didn’t get the “Post New-Year Sleep in Late” memo.) Once I got her settled with a bottle, I signed into Facebook to complain about my eventful night. I was looking for sympathy. What I found was a message from a very close friend of mine, telling me her beloved mother-in-law had passed away.
Suddenly, nighttime vomit and a stubbed toe seemed less catastrophic– dramatically so. I will not be spending my New Year planning a funeral, or comforting my grieving husband, or explaining death to my children. A washing machine and a quick nap will fix everything for me. There is no quick, easy fix for her. Her sorrow will last a lot longer than the pain from my stubbed toe.
That’s all for now. I’m off to hug my kids, and to tell my parents I love them.