I was going to write about how the last week was a living nightmare. About how my son got a stomach virus and spent 5 full days pooping and barfing all over me. How I watched him disappear into himself, gradually fading more and more until I said enough, and carried his limp little body to the emergency room for an IV of fluids and medication. I was going to write about how I had to hold him down and watch them struggle for a vein, and see him look shocked at the one person who was supposed to protect him from this shit let the bad people hurt him. I was going to write about how much I cried holding him, feeling his little frame shake, the sobs echoing down the halls. But instead I going to walk away from this story. I am going to say, "Maybe another day."
I hurt. My body is tired, my mind feels like old glue. I know that parents go though this kind of stuff, but nothing can prepare you for the feeling of wondering if your kid is going to come back. I watched his spark fade, and it made mine waver and shake.
But my son is back, in surprising speed and fire. He is being his normal toddler self, complete with teething pain, picky eating habits and irrational behavior. For a brief second, I almost miss the the moments when he was sick that he just let me hold him gentle and still. And then I watch him smear peanut butter in his hair, and throw a balloon in the toilet and fall on the floor crying because his shoe fell off. And I remember that fading spark, and I immediately prefer the spitfire pissant that I call my child. He is all here, and more. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, no matter how much I dislike the very early mornings where his dad and stare at each other while he screams at us because he just doesn't want to sleep, but he doesn't want to be awake either. Such is life, and I am grateful.
Being grateful is hard. You guzzle coffee in the morning and wonder how you are going to survive your kid all day after a night from hell...and then the radio tells you about a bombing in the Middle East where a whole family died in one instant. You grimace, and tell yourself to stop being the asshole complaining about a whiny kid. You remember that no matter what, it could be so much worse. That there are people out there that would kill and die for what you have, and a moment ago, you didn't want it. Be grateful. Be grateful for the moments you have with your screaming baby, your cold coffee, your morning commute. They are so precious.
Anyways, I am grateful. I have a maniac baby, a husband who only sighs sometimes, and dogs that shed like crazy but keep the carpet cracker-free. I am so very lucky. Have a wonderful day,everyone.