|this is from last year and he is still just as cute!|
Finding the beauty in awaking four nights in a row to sick children is not something I ever plan on doing. I won't miss it and I sure won't wish for it to come back into my house. Germs! Yuck!
When we look back at our children's lives in our house, we won't remember the sick times. We won't remember the times that we yelled at our son to be quiet so that he doesn't wake up his non-sick brother by his whining. We won't remember being puked on.
If we do, there is this magical thing that happens. It's called remembering it fondly. We will. Remember it fondly, that is. Our Sweet Peas & Buddies may even remember it humorously.
So I've decided that it's okay to hate it. It's okay to be frustrated. It's okay to be grossed out and gag. It's okay to cry that you are doing 14 loads of laundry in one day because just when you thought you were done, you realized that the clothes you are wearing are covered in vomit. It's okay to take a shower for no other reason than perhaps maybe you will feel clean when it is through.
There is nothing wrong about wishing away a moment in time. I am not a horrible mom if I don't relish absolutely every single cotton-pickin' thing. It's okay to dread when the next child is going to get sick because inevitably it WILL happen (even if it doesn't).
This is what makes up life. The beautiful AND the ugly. The pleasing AND the pain. Without one, we wouldn't know the other. Sorrow and sadness just make the joy that much more vibrant, more intoxicating.
True, I do try to live a little more even keel and reign in my extremeness (without much luck half the time), but there are things to hate in this world. My choices are illness and weariness.