Toast

I'm tired.

10:00 pm: Tony and I crawled into bed both dog tired from a stressful day. I fell asleep before they finished talking about the miners on the news.

12:09 am: Miles is up with teething pain. Spent 25 minutes rocking him, feeding him and finally whipping out the infant tylenol.

2:11 am: Cole comes crashing through our bedroom door "I'm going to throw up!". Why that kid comes all the way upstairs to throw up in our bathroom rather than in his own bathroom RIGHT NEXT TO HIS BED, I'll never understand. Luckily he made it to the toilet this time.

Spent the next 45 minutes laying with Cole in his bed rubbing his back, trying to get him to go back to sleep. Listening to Cole tell me all the reasons he hates to throw up and feeling sicker by the minute...yuck, too much of a visual.

Finally, sleep comes and as I tip-toe out of the bedroom he whispers "Thanks for laying with me mom."

2:57 am: Back in my own bed but consumed with thoughts of all the disinfecting I must do in the morning, all the places Cole has touched, the things he's played with, the things he's layed on. Also feeling terribly guilty because I purposely rubbed his back instead of cuddled with him...trying to avoid getting flu germs on me. I'm a complete germaphobe and I'm ashamed to admit I have a hard time showering my kids with affection when their puking their guts out. That's Tony's job...and he does it very well.


4:44 am: Miles is cooing and writhing in his crib. I spend 45 minutes trying to cajole him back to sleep. Two bottles, two rounds of his musical mobile, two walks around the house and 20 minutes in the rocker to no avail.

5:35 am: Tony relieves me and takes the baby. Ahhh....sweet slumber.

7:45 am: I'm up, albeit a bit groggy. Lysol and I have a date.