Those Other Mothers

Look at the time - it's early in the morning or late at night... Sister-Bug has been up all night with a nasty tummy something. The poor little thing wakes up in agony every few minutes to shriek and writhe.

(I have thoroughly checked her and ruled out the need for immediate medical care... I'm guessing a very bad gas bubble.)

It was a long day today, visiting my sister in California and adventuring around her haunts. We aren't in our own bed, which makes this harder. And every few minutes I must be ON. On for crooning and tummy rubs and sitting up rocking, or anything else that eases this baby's discomfort.

And I do it.

It's very zen. We are here and now doing this because there is nothing else to be done.

It is nights like this that I feel the Other Mothers. These are the mothers that span time and place. Mothers of ancient Sumeria or present day Finland. Pioneer mothers or exiled queens. My ancestors, and any other mother who has sat up with a sick child, all night long, dredging compassion and patience and one more lullaby from the depth of her weary being.

I feel their hands on my back when I want to lay down, but must remain sitting. I feel their hands gently over my mouth when I want to scream with tired frustration. I feel their love pouring over me, enabling me to continue pouring love over my child.

I am so grateful for those other mothers - the ones who have sat up in the past and the ones who are sitting up tonight. And I hope, someday, my spirit can fly to a future mother as she sits rocking all night long.

What To Do When...

...the toddler eats a handful of raw ground turkey?
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Clear your schedule, wear something washable, and prepare for some sticky, vomiting toddler snuggles. Yuck.

Spend some time on the phone with the pediatrician and the midwife. Be grateful that the midwife is well informed and really knows her stuff - because the pediatrician wasn't much help at all.

Also, save the package the turkey came in - in case you have to visit Urgent Care (looks like we missed that adventure, thank goodness!).

Sip Pedialite slowly, an hour after the last puke. Flavor it with a little peppermint tea to soothe the tummy.

Take a relaxing bath spiked with chamomile tea and lavender oil and wash the sticky off yourself and the toddler.


Go to bed with a movie....

Oh, wait. Wipe up and change everyone's shirts again. Sleep with the toddler cuddled up on a towel.

Sigh.

Plan on laundry for tomorrow. Lots of laundry.

Sigh.

Ugh....Hack....Sniff....

Back from the Country Fair with 12 loads of laundry to do, unpacking galore, storing the Fair supplies for next year, thinking about ways to improve our 2012 Fair (we have only 362 days to plan, you know), and trying to decompress from the craziness with the kids... And of course I get an awful head cold.

A head cold in the Summer is just cruel. In the fall and winter it is expected. It makes sense. It's time to snuggle inside and drink hot tea anyway. I still hate every snuffy minute, but at least it is seasonally appropriate.

This all leads me to the grander question: how does one lovingly and effectively parent with a head cold? These are the days when I am at my worst. I look back on the day as I wheeze in bed, and I hate the parent I was all day. Cranky. Crabby. Impatient. Irrational.

I know that I can only do so much, but it almost seems like some other part of my brain wants the kids to be as miserable as I am. Or something like that.

What doesn't help is that I really don't like to be touched at all when my nose is stuffy. And I have a one-year old co-sleeping snuggle-bug.

I'll repeat my question: how does one lovingly and effectively parent with a head cold? If you give me useful and/or inspirational advice, I might just give you a prize.

Back to the trenches now.