We seem to
have developed an unfortunate holiday tradition: illness.
Beginning
with last Thanksgiving -- when we had to go to the emergency room twice in as
many days! -- someone has gotten sick whenever there is any kind of holiday or
special occasion.
This year,
it started with a runny nose. August woke up one day and had a bit of clear
liquid coming out of one nostril. Matt immediately started to freak out,
"Oh my god, I can't believe it! Why is this happening to us? Next time, we
are going to quarantine the boys for at least a week before any holiday!"
I, on the
other hand, was in total denial. "He's not sick. What makes you think he's
sick? It's just a little runny nose."
Matt:
"When has a runny nose ever meant he's NOT sick?"
The next
morning -- Christmas Eve day -- August had Niagara Falls coming out his
nose.
But still, I
was not particularly alarmed. All kids have runny noses. Every kid I see out in
the world has a runny nose, seemingly all the time. They are all grungy and
runny and teething and drooling and putting their grubby fingers into their
mouths. That's just kids.
Christmas
morning, August woke up with the Great Wall of China blocking his nostrils.
Caked on, dried up snot. I could no longer ignore it. He was sick.
When a
friend of mine gifted me the NoseFrida Snot Sucker when I was pregnant, I was
like, "Eww, that's so gross. There is no way -- no way -- I'm ever going to suck
snot out of another person's nose, even if it's my own kid."
Cut to being
a mother of 18-month-old twins. I have sucked snot out of one of their noses
probably every other day of their lives. This holiday season I can say without hesitation that I'm grateful for that NoseFrida!
Anyway,
August got truly, undeniably sick. He's miserable and snotty and whiny and upset
and coughing and clinging. And he's spreading his germs to Finely and me and Matt
and probably to my parents who came over for Christmas.
I spent Christmas night
sleeping fitfully, nursing a sore throat, listening for coughs and moans
from the boys' room, thinking I'd probably have to take August to the doctor this
week, images of antibiotics dancing in my head.
This whole
parenthood thing, especially to twins, is so much more difficult than I ever
imagined. I have been bone tired every single day since June 26, 2011.
But I
also wouldn't give it up.
Last night,
when Finely woke up coughing at 2:30 a.m., I brought him onto the couch in his
room with me, fed him a little bit of bottle, rubbed his back and cuddled for
probably an hour while he slept on my chest. And while I was there I said to
myself, to god to the universe, "This is really hard. But thank you. Thank
you for entrusting me with the job of caring for these children."
The thing is, I simply adore them.
I adore their squeals and the silly, unbridled way they dance whenever they
hear music. I adore their glee and wonder at every new experience. I adore
seeing how they learn new words every day, how they hone new skills -- like
stacking about seven Christmas presents on top of each other!
It comes
down to this. My throat hurts. I hope I don't have an ear infection. I really,
really want a good night's sleep but can't count on it. I'm tired. I look
tired. But I also love my kids beyond measure and I'm grateful now and forever
that they are in my life.
Merry (cough,
cough) Christmas
