Of a Rough Night

Just as I was settling in to feed Joey last night, before heading to bed, I heard a frantic cry from the older kids' bedroom - not an, "I don't want to sleep right now" cry but a cry of injury or discomfort - the kind of cry you hate to hear as a parent.

Philip went to investigate and found our son, covered in sickness.

As Joey finished up (he has not been eating for very long, unfortunately), Philip was just beginning the process of cleaning the mess in Emmett's bed while our sick little boy sat on a towel in our bathroom, awaiting his bath.  Though I was able to help clean him up while the littlest one dozed, I recognized I should, overall, limit my contact with our oldest son, just in case germs were playing a factor in his purging.

Thus began Philip's most brave night of parenting.  My husband, who gags to the point of causing his own sickness at the sight/sound/smell of someone else getting sick, endured two hours of cleaning up our son's stomach contents, changing bed linens, running the washing machine, and cuddling, only to repeat the process again - three times.  The end result was a father and son sleepover in the living room so Philip could keep an eye on Little Man (and keep possible future messes contained to an easily-mopped wood floor, rather than the carpet of his room).

All the while, I felt horrible, not being able to comfort my son or help my husband, doing nothing but trying to rest so I could keep up with the sleep schedule of the Small One who would need to eat various times through the night.

It was a rough night for everyone (which is, apparently, the key to the children allowing one to sleep in until 10), but we awoke to a better morning.  Everyone in the house is well; there were, apparently, no germs involved; and the night is behind us.

On that note, here's to a Happy (and Healthy) Valentine's Day!