I'm not going to lie, these past two weeks have really kicked my butt. So much so, that I was quite possibly having a mini melt-down last Friday evening.
It all started when my one year old son, Justus came down with a nasty cold that led to a double ear-infection, that led to a bad skin reaction to the antibiotics, which led to yet another doctors visit, that led to yet ANOTHER round of antibiotics and in between all of that both Rozalyn (my three year old) and myself caught that same nasty cold... Let's just say what should have lasted a couple days, lasted two WHOLE weeks.
At this point you should probably be feeling really bad for me! Because poor me right!? This is awful! Although I am slightly kidding...I was feeling pretty bad myself last friday night when it all came to a head. During this period of time, I've had little to no time to prepare for upcoming blogs and newletters, I've lost countless hours of sleep, I've been trapped in my house for fear of releasing the plague to anyone that we may encounter and I have had to push my relationship with my husband to the side while I nursed my children and myself back to health. And let's just say, I was beginning to feel the weight of that distance more and more each day.
My husband and I have the pleasure of working closely together each day since we both work from home. Honestly, I love having a companion at "work" with me and for us, working in close quarters just seems to work for us. But I was beginning to let the weight of my stress and tiredness get in the middle of our relationship and I could feel this sort of shift in the way we communicated and interacted with one another.
That was until Friday night...
It all happened so fast...we didn't even get a chance to realize what was happening until it was all over.
Due to my lack of sleep the past couple weeks, I felt it would be nice to catch a few extra "Zzz's" and call it a night after the kids fell asleep (around 8PM). I swear I had only shut my eyes for 2 minutes when I heard my second born screaming bloody murder in the next room. Breathing a heavy sigh of discontent, I waited expectantly for my husband to soothe him back to sleep. Only my expectations were quickly interrupted when my husband barged into the bedroom yelling..."Tessa, there's throw up. SO much throw up!"
Ok, if you're a parent...you know exactly the feeling I was having at this very moment. It's quite possibly one of the worst feelings you have when you become a parent and what you fear most is if it's going to be a "one-and-done" kind of night or an all-night affair...even though you're always praying to God it's the former. That is unless you have more than one child...to which you are then praying that the other(s) doesn't get it too.
We both quickly sprung into action, I started a bath, while Guy "picked" up the mess that had formed in and around Justus' crib. As I rinsed the god-awful smell away and put on a fresh pair of pj's I was feeling pretty confident that he had simply had a bad batch of milk that night and we were in the clear. That was until...I heard my oldest child, restless in her room, whimper helplessly for my aid; to which Guy and I both exclaimed, "Jesus, please don't let it be throw up!" I frantically raced to her room only to be welcomed by a stream of projectile vomit. Yep. It happened. It TOTALLY happened.
From that moment on, we worked to keep up with the two children as they seemed to be in "vomiting cahoots;" each throwing up one after the other like clockwork for three straight hours. Finally after the third round we started to see the trend and began working more cohesively to cater to the madness. Because that's what it was...sheer madness. At one point Guy and I just started laughing because we ran out of clean bowls to administer and were left rummaging through the cabinets looking for anything that could act as a potential "catch-all."
It was comical really, watching us run around the house frantically; me with no pants on and Guy fully clothed with his Bissell and bleach in his hands at all time. I couldn't help but think to myself in those moments how thankful I was to have him by my side; doing the stuff that I hated (like cleaning up all the throw up) while I soothed our babies in bed. I watched as he got down on his hands and knees time and time again, scrapping up the floor with a FORK and never, not once complaining that I should be doing this instead.
In the morning, we woke up and couldn't help but laugh in remembrance of the night..."I had a great night last night honey, let's do it again sometime" Guy remarked when rolling out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn (because let's face it...every parent knows that just because your children got no sleep last night doesn't mean they will sleep in till noon the next day). "But for real babe...we did good last night...knuckles." And just like that, all my weariness and unhappiness about our relationship was gone and I was reminded of the amazing partnership I was in with this man. No matter how stinky, messy, or inconvenient my life is, he is always there to shoulder the weight and for that I am extremely grateful (although I wish it didn't take a situation like that to remind me).