Being a Parent Rocks . . . mostly

Let me tell you why I’m at home blogging on a Sunday morning.

It was a clear and humid night in west central Georgia.  In the Cowan household Mr. Cheesedoodle had just begun his 2 am meal when the quiet sound of a hiccup came from the Mackerdoodle’s room.  Suddenly the tranquility was shattered with shrieks of  “No, no, no, no . . . ” in the Mackerdoodle’s clear toddler voice.  Jonathan leaped from the bed and crossed the small hallway between our rooms in two steps.  I heard him talking to the Mackerdoodle, and her little voice talking back through tears.  Finally he called out to me “Uh, babe.  I need some help here.”

Mackerdoodle had thrown up her supper.  As far as vomit goes, it was pretty tidy – two small piles, one of which had conveniently landed in Jonathan’s hand.  We cleaned her up, put the affected pillow and her night shirt into the washing machine, and while I went back to finish feeding the very confused Cheesedoodle,  Jonathan lay down beside the Mackerdoodle and soon the house returned to its night time slumber.

At some point shortly after 3 am, the sound of gagging and retching, followed by a repeat of the chorus “no, no, no, no, no . . . ” rang out in the darkness.  This time it wasn’t so tidy.  We had to strip the bed, strip the Daddy and strip the Mackerdoodle and put her into the bath tub.  As I was bathing her, I could hear the intestinal discomfort still rolling around in her tummy.  She was beginning to feel a little better when we tucked her into the tiny crib mattress that she has outgrown and held her hand until she fell fast asleep.  Around 4 am she rolled of the mattress and landed on the floor with a thump.  It just wasn’t her night.

At 5 am Mr. Cheesedoodle decided that he’d slept plenty and it was a fine time to try out his  grunting coos.  I took him into the living room, worried that he’d wake his already disrupted sister.  For an hour and a half I dozed on and off while he gazed around the dark room with his big baby blue eyes and grunted happily at the world.  He finally went back to sleep after eating at 6:30 and I fell into bed, hoping for a few more winks.

At 7:30 am, despite her eventful evening, the Mackerdoodle’s eyes popped open, and it was another day in the life of a toddler.  She isn’t running a fever, but there is just no way she could have been exposed to milk yesterday, so we assumed a virus and kept her home from church rather than running the risk of infecting the nursery.

So that’s why I’m at home with both children and Jonathan is at church.  And yes, I still love being a mama – most of the time.

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About Coralie

After 11 years of infertility, I am now a mother to three, a wife of a Presbyterian (ARP) preacher and a struggling homemaker. Welcome to my little corner of the net. Kick off your shoes, put your feet up and join the conversation. View all posts by Coralie

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