I'm so glad he barfed on me

Annalee (5) started feeling sick with a cold last night.  Sure enough, she spent the night emptying two boxes of Kleenex.  I kept her home from school for the first time.  The kids usually have cold cereal for breakfast but I thought today sounded like an oatmeal kind of day and Annalee agreed.  Vander (3) didn't say anything so I figured he was fine with it.  Meal times are always a little hectic with a baby to manage so I got the oatmeal set up for the kids as quickly as possible.  Then I went to feed the baby.  That's when Vander started wailing that he didn't want oatmeal, he wanted Cheerios.  I was a little short with him because he'd had plenty of time to make the protest before I went to all the work of oatmeal and now I wasn't going to let him waste his food while I got him something else.  Annalee declared she wanted more oatmeal, though, so I told her she could have Vander's and I got him a bowl of Cheerios.  As I was about to go feed the baby again--she had been loudly protesting my slowness this whole time--Vander cried, "But I don't want Cheerios!"  Now I was really annoyed.  In frustration I snapped, "Then what DO you want?"  He stuttered for a minute and then said, "I just want you to hold me."  So I put Bellana down and picked him up. 

And then he barfed.

He barfed all over his pajamas and my robe.  And then he barfed again.  And for good measure, one more time.  I stood in shock for a moment as the warm weight hit my chest and dumbly said, "Oh."  And then I moved to a non-carpeted area.  As I carried him upstairs he threw up two more times and I was grateful that I'd taken the time to wear such a thick and absorbent robe.  I cleaned him up in the bathtub and dumped all of our soiled clothes in the washing machine.  Again, I was thankful that I was wearing something that came off so easily instead of, say, over my head.  And those few thoughts of gratitude opened the door for more to come in.

There I was, first thing in the morning, with two sick kids and a guaranteed 12 hour day of whining and bodily fluids ahead of me.  Not to mention the possibility of the illness passing to the baby and myself.  As crazy as it sounds, there was no place I'd rather be at that moment than standing in the family room, holding my son with vomit pooling between us.  When he felt sick and miserable, my little Vander said, "Mommy, I just want you to hold me."  Would I wish that he would call for someone else?  Or would I want him to call for me in vain, surrounded by kind caregivers whose only fault is that they aren't his mom?  I know some mothers want to stay home, and can't.  My heart aches for them.  I know some mothers don't want to stay home.  I don't judge them.  But as for me, I am so, so glad that I am here when my children need me.  So, so glad that we have the luxury of making non-luxurious decisions that allow me to be home. 

Halfway through the day, Annalee looked up at me and said, "Thank you for taking such good care of us when we're sick, Mom."

Even though I am home, I am not always available to all my children.  I often get caught up in a project, chore, or distraction (Facebook!) and find myself repeating, "Not right now," or "I'll do that in a minute," or "Show me later."  And so, the last thing I am grateful for today is that when he needed to be held I didn't say, "I'm holding the baby.  Now, get in your chair and eat breakfast," as I very well might have done. 

I held him.  And I got all the validation and barf I'll ever need.