My eyes popped open and I bolted upright in bed. I paused for a moment and listened closely for the sound that had woken me up. There it was again. I sprang from my bed and raced to the room of my 7 year old daughter. I dragged her limp, tired, partially awake, heaving body carefully to the floor and in front of the bowl. The first few times this happened tonight, she didn't quite make it into the bowl. I leaned my tired head on the side of the bunk bed, tried to steady my breathing from jumping out of bed, and closed my eyes while she continued to be sick.
Twice around 8:00 pm. Once in the 9:00 hour. Three times in the 11:00 pm hour. The bright red numbers on the digital clock began to blend and blur. 3:00...4:00...
At 4:30, as I just began to calm my racing heart and slow my mind down again, my sweet night in shining armor entered the room, just arriving home after a 10 hour shift at work. I asked him if he would be willing to get the boys up for early morning seminary at 4:55 am so that I could...hopefully...get some sleep in before I had to be up at 6:15.
Mommy...mommy...MOMMY!! I jumped out of bed again and ran to her side. She wasn't sick this time. Thankfully. Just awake. She asked what the noise was that she could hear from upstairs. I wanted to get mad. But I didn't. My body was so exhausted. I answered her question and told her go back to sleep. I settled back into my soft comforter.
Mommy...mommy... This time I wasn't quite asleep and jumped up before too much screaming escaped her lips. I didn't want the 4 year old to wake up just yet. I entered her room and all she wanted was a drink. I got her some water and again told her to go back to sleep. I'm not sure how my feet carried me to my room again, but they did.
I slowly crawled back into bed. Sigh. Only a few more minutes of sleep left. The alarm blared and I'm pretty sure I whined, almost on the verge of tears, but moved my tired body through the house to wake up the next child for school.
Time to make breakfast. I got out the eggs and cheese. I went to grab the bread. The loaf was gone. I wanted to cry. Back down the stairs I trudged to the extra fridge to get another loaf.
The next alarm went off to remind me to wake up the boy #4. Thankfully he could get himself ready on his own. I laid down on the couch and closed my eyes. The sick little girl walked into the room, with her bowl...just in case, and grabbed a blanket before climbing onto the other couch.
Finally, after getting all the kids out the door and putting a show on for the "sicko" to watch, I went back to my bed. I couldn't get warm. My feet were so cold. My sweatshirt wasn't warm enough anymore. I sat up and put on warm socks and laid back down.
The phone call from the doctor's office to reschedule our appointment woke me up completely. I decided I'd just have to be awake.
In the afternoon I crashed...hard. I sat on the couch, in between two little girls, and fell asleep. Sort of. In between the littlest girl touching my face, kissing my face or putting her face in front of mine and saying, "Mom!" several times, I slept a little. The the sick child decided she felt better and got up to play. Then all the quiet flew right out the window.
#sick, just sick