Perfect Timing
It’s just as well I don’t believe in reincarnation, because if I did the events of the past 24 hours would be making me wonder what terrible deed I had committed in a past life. Parenting is wonderful and fulfilling and rewarding, but it is also the most highly unpredictable vocation around.
My husband doesn’t travel for work very often these days, but this weekend just happened to be one of them. He and a bunch of other ministers were invited to attend a training seminar in Sydney and he jumped at the chance. I vaguely remember him leaving for his 5:30am flight on Friday. I’m used to looking after the kids by myself so I’m not particularly worried when he goes away. We cope well, me and my boys, and everything actually runs very smoothly. I find that my days have a rhythm to them that is quite relaxing. This weekend however, the wheels fell off.
It all began late afternoon on Friday. We’d had a great day and I’d got the house nice and clean ready for Sabbath and the weekend. We were heading back from the shops when Possum announced that his tummy felt a bit funny, “Like there’s a burp in there that won’t come out.” Moo had vomited once Wednesday night and again on Thursday morning so my tummy bug radar was on high alert. That sounded like a pretty good description of that awful feeling you get before you start throwing up to me.
Possum skipped dinner and put himself to bed at 6pm. That’s when I knew we were quite possibly in for a rough night. (Or should I say I was in for a rough night. Hubby was safely ensconced in his hotel room in Sydney, lucky thing.) I raced around trying to get the twins ready for bed so I could devote my attention to Possum. I bathed them as quick as I could, but not quickly enough. With shampoo suds still on their heads, I heard the unmistakeable sounds of vomiting coming from Possum’s room. What to do?! Safety had to come first, so I called out to Possum and told him I’d be there as soon as I could. Then I whisked JJ and Moo out of the bath and dried them off in record time. Wearing just a nappy each, I deposited them behind the child-proof gate and headed for Possum. Poor little guy was miserable. He was heaving his heart up (with a duet of howls coming from the twins) and there was nothing I could do about it.
It was a long night. Possum vomited pretty much every 30 minutes or so from 6pm till 1am. I put a mattress on the floor in his room and tried to cuddle him through the worst of it. And I tried to ignore the queasiness residing in my own stomach. Did I have the bug too or was it just a sympathetic response to dealing with vomit for hours at a time? I couldn’t bear to think about it. Meanwhile, I was acutely aware of one other fact: JJ was most likely next.
My prediction proved to be right. Just as I went to get the twins out of their cots at 7:30am I heard that unmistakeable sound again. Ladies and gentlemen, we have the trifecta. And so today I had two vomiting children and one still recovering. This morning was tough as I tried to look after my crew who all desperately needed me and were prone to vomit at any given moment, but after a long sleep for everyone, things improved. We spent the afternoon outside in the sunshine and fresh air blowing all the germs away. All the boys managed to keep down some food and I haven’t dealt with vomit for over 12 hours now. Things are really looking up!
And do you know the best bit? I survived. Even though it wasn’t fun, it was hard and there were moments when I didn’t know which disaster to tackle first, I did it. I had numerous calls from my lovely husband who told me I just had to say the word and he’d catch an early flight home. Maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s independence, but I’m not in the habit of asking for help and by the time he got home the worst would probably be over anyway, but I did appreciate the offer. If I was lying in a heap on the bathroom floor myself it might have been a different story, but I wasn’t. And so I just got on and did what sole parents the world over do. They cope. They do the best they can with the number of arms they have and with their hearts full of love. And I take my hat off to them. I had to do it for a weekend. Some of them do it for a lifetime.
The timing was so bad it was hilarious. Of all the weekends for my husband to go away, it’s the one weekend where the kids start dropping like flies. But that’s just life and you can choose whether to laugh or cry. I chose to laugh. Even in the thick of it I was chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all. And at the forefront of my mind throughout the last 24-hours has been the best piece of advice my darling mother ever gave me: This too shall pass. Guess what? It did. You can come home now, Honey! The crisis is over, although I am still feeling a bit queasy. What time does your flight get in again???
