Tonight I am holding vigil for Peanut. He is sick. The problem is that I don’t know if he is sick because of me and my own stupidity or if he has a stomach bug. Honestly? I want it to be a stomach bug. He’s been puking since roughly 10:33p.m. and we are now at 1:33a.m. on Christmas Eve.
We’ve been going pretty busy since the kids’ last day of school was Thursday. Friday was a shopping whirlwind with Bug to get everyone taken care of and then Saturday was a last minute-can’t-believe-I-forgot-them shopping trip. Today was baking cookies with Nana and everyone had a good time. But that was HOURS ago.
I think though that the milk in my fridge was going bad and I didn’t realize it when I filled up his cup tonight and because of that my poor Peanut is sicker than a dog and we are both exhausted.
I feel terrible. What an idiot I must be to not notice the milk was going bad when I poured his last cup before bed. This is one of those moments where I sit banging my head against a wall wondering why I wasn’t paying more attention. I can’t help him. I can’t do anything for him except to let him empty his poor tummy and pray that this is all over in the morning.
It’s also a reminder (at least to me anyway) that puke happens. There isn’t much I can do. We’ve changed at least 4 pairs of jammies, we are on our fourth blanket (our favorite is in the dryer) and he no longer has anymore stuffed animals to keep him company. (Again, with the washer and dryer). He’s given up crying when he gets sick and just tries to go back to sleep while I change and clean him up.
I had just begun to think tonight how well the evening was going. Kids going off to bed, getting ready to wrap presents (again, with the guilt for not being ready yet), and I was just beginning to rock Peanut as part of our routine when he gets very sick. The next hour is a fog of puking, cleaning, rocking and then puking again. All the while I sit and silently kick myself for allowing this to happen and then kick myself again for hoping he’s coming down with something and it isn’t really my fault. He is in bed now but that hasn’t stopped him from being sick and I am permanently attached to the sound of coughing on the baby monitor -rushing to the room with every hack and gag I hear.
I don’t know why I am confessing all of this. Maybe because someone else reading has done something similar and is putting their own head size dents in a wall or maybe because it’s to remind everyone that there is no bigger critic of what we do or don’t do than ourselves.
It’s true. Society can berate us and we can put each other down but there is no harder judge and jury than we are to ourselves. I don’t know a mom within a five state radius who at one point or another had a moment or even a night when she wondered if she screwed up and her kid wasn’t paying the price. Most times it’s a little thing that seems big at the time but every now and then it’s a real gut check like tonight. We sit at the witness stand recounting the events leading up to our accused crime and break down silently when our own private prosecutor insinuates that we did this to ourselves.
The problem with putting ourselves on trial like this is that even when the defense comes to rest, there will be new charges filed for which we will hold ourselves accountable for.
It’s the never ending judicial system playing itself out in our heads.
I truly hope that while I have been able to take a minute to sit and confess all of this that Peanut’s stomach is settled finally. The last of the “yuckies” have left him with our final clothing and bedding change and for at least tonight, court is adjourned.
When my son was 3 months old we took him in the car to look at all the Christmas lights. After an hour or so of looking at lights he started crying for his bottle. I passed the bottle of milk from the warmer to his aunt to feed him but although she was trying to feed him he just wasn’t drinking any.
As his crying became louder than a foghorn I realised I’d left the cap on that stops the milk from leaking. You’ve never seen a baby guzzle as quick as he did once he finally got to his milk.
I still feel guilty today and he’s 4.
I read this and could feel the guilt balling up in the pit of my stomach – remembering those moments when I failed as a mother. For example, when I dropped my newborn on the floor… This is written SO WELL and you are so right about how hard we judge ourselves. It’s hard to look past the puke and the bumps & bruises and remember that these things happen and we do our best to take care of them and protecth them as best we can and have to leave the rest up to God and the myriads of guardian angels who NEVER sleep…
I think we’ve all been there once or twice. I hope Peanut is feeling better now and that you all enjoyed a good Christmas.
Thank you ladies for sharing your thoughts, I am glad (sort of) to report that we have rampid virus running through the house which has struck all but two of us (even me sorry to say). Hopefully we will be back to our normal disorganized life soon!