Anyone who has read my blog for long knows that I am not a domestic goddess. Not by a long shot. Crafty? Yes. Love quilting and sewing? Yes. Knit? Yes. Clean the house well and/or regularly? No. Not only no but oh h*ll no. There are only so many hours in the day and I have too many fabrics I want to play with.
So what am I doing at 3 something in the morning doing laundry?? Especially since I just DID laundry yesterday (and have the basket full of Miss Tinkerbell's laundry in the living room waiting for me to bring it upstairs and put it away to prove it). I got the dreaded Mommy call --that's what.
Any of you who have children know this call -- the "Mommy, I'm messy" call. Silly me, I thought it meant she had peed her bed. Again. We've been having a bit of a passive aggressive struggle lately about bed time. DH and I put her to bed, she protests. She tries/says anything to stay awake a little while longer. "Sing me a song Mommy" "I need to go potty, weally" etc. etc. Anything to avoid sleep and draw out the bed time process. DH and I have been quietly ignoring most of the requests and simply saying "no." One time at the potty, one song, a cuddle and a kiss and goodnight. Her protest? Take off her pants and her diaper and pee on the sheets. It would be funny if it weren't happening to me so you can go ahead and laugh. I mean -- from her viewpoint, you've got to admit, it's effective. It does delay bedtime while we change the sheets and put new ones on and put her back to bed, again.
I should have known better since this call came at 2:00 am. Nope, this "I messy" meant that she had thrown up all over herself, her bed, and the stuffed animals she was sleeping with. "I messy" meant a trip to the tub for the "dub dub" we didn't do earlier and a clean pair of pj's (though just for the record -- she HAD taken off her pj bottoms and her diaper so she may have been THINKING about peeing in the bed). It meant reassuring her that it's ok that she got Muffy messy, that Muffy would get her own "dub dub". (no, Muffy is not the name of the dolly I made for her. Muffy is the "bear" she "made" the day we visited Santa) It meant taking her temperature (normal) and reading a story. It meant cuddles and kisses and going back to bed. That was over an hour ago -- but I really don't see me getting any sleep tonight.
My baby is sick and there's nothing I can do about it. This is the WORST feeling in the world. I am wide awake and wired to DO something -- but there's nothing to do. Oh, other than keep an ear out for any repeat stomach "bloops" (her word). Which, btw, we've already had one. So we're on the second set of pj's, a new pj top for Mommy, and another load of laundry to start when the first is in the dryer. And I'm not going to get any sleep tonight. I'll keep watch until DH gets home from work at 6:45 am and then get a nap in before the Dr.'s office opens at 8. Then I will do Dr. duty, and then Mommy duty since little one will not be going to daycare tomorrow.
You would think I could use this time to do some sewing. I have swaps to finish. I have knitting I can do. But I need my hands free. I need to be able to drop what I'm doing. So, I'll sit at the computer, a few short steps from Miss Tinkerbell and get caught up on my blog reading. And I'll listen. And I'll worry. And I'll hope her tummy feels better. And I'll wish I could do SOMETHING, so I'll ramble in a blog post and hope you understand.
And on the bright side -- I've wondered how I would handle the whole "child getting sick and throwing up" thing. You see -- I tend to have a "sympathetic" stomach. On my own, pretty much a rock unless I am seriously ill. But give me a good whiff of someone else losing their lunch (or dinner, or any other meal) and, um, yeah. (baby spit-ups do not count -- not the same thing AT ALL) So, I'm proud of me tonight. I didn't lose it. I kept my head. I cleaned the mess without losing MY dinner. I even touched the ick without getting too grossed out (and anyone out there who tells me they don't get a little icked by cleaning up messes like this, I don't believe you. Yes, it's part of being a parent, but come on, it's gross). Yeah me.
2 1/2 hours left until DH gets home. Let's hear it for caffeine and adrenaline. And it's also time to switch loads of laundry. 'Cause dammit, Muffy will be clean and dry when little one wakes up. 'Cause she was worried about the darned stuffie, rather than herself. 'Cause it's all I can do.