Thoughts on Throats and Throw-up

This past Friday we took our family to Lovely Isaac Creek for a camping trip. We were joined by our friends, the Lawrences (hi, guys!). I was a bit nervous about taking Ethan (almost 2) on his first camping trip - afraid he'd get cold at night, afraid he'd get bitten by something, afraid he'd get lost. You get the idea (by the way...be sure to check out my upcoming blog all about fear!). Well, the trip went off without a hitch. Without a hitch, I tell you!!

Then, Saturday night, after camping, sleeping (???) on the ground, and one tylenol PM later, as I was about to be nestled into my nice warm bed, Ethan started crying.

Michael went to pick him up and...Bluggghh...vomit!

I have a "defcon vomit mode" I fly into whenever one of the kids is sick. Isolate the child, strip the child, bathe the child, throw all the soiled items onto the washing machine, repeat as necessary. I started the process at once and lost track of how many times it was carried out.

Much later in the night Mason awoke crying and swollen-throated. I got the flashlight and looked. To my laywoman's eye, I think we are dealing with strep throat. (Today his temperature has been lingering around 102. Tomorrow is the Veteran's Day holiday...I hope the doctor's office is open!!!)

After I had Mason fixed up and back in bed, I was sitting with Ethan on the couch, holding him, patting his back, and ruing the moment I had chosen to take a tylenol PM. Sometimes children are so much work, and sometimes it's heartbreaking, but if Ethan, or any of my children needed me to, I would hold them all night. Many nights in a row. I would go without sleep, or anything at all. I would do anything for them. I was reflecting on these things and a warm feeling spread over me.

It was vomit.


After the defcon vomit routine, I got Ethan settled in a pallet next to the couch, and finally was able to close my eyes for a few minutes. I made it into my bed about 5:15am, just to close my eyes for a minute while Michael finished his shower. I knew he'd need a shirt ironed.

I woke at 7:30am. My precious husband gave his sermon in a wrinkled shirt.

Sometimes we just have to laugh at life. And thank God for laughter...!