I have always remembered my extremely wise Grandma’s words that although mothering is a challenge in itself, nothing is worse than when your kids are sick. The feeling of helplessness. Of desperation. Of absolute fatigue. And this is coming from no wimp. A mother to nine, one of which she had to bury before her 1st birthday. Five of which she birthed at home. With no medication. Whatsoever. Anyway, I’ve been extremely blessed with extremely healthy kids but as our family grows, so do the chances of spreading illness and boy has it been rough the last couple of weeks. Bouncing back and forth between 3 babies in the middle of the night to get juice and cool wash cloths, to nurse, to hold, to comfort, and to pray with when momma’s not feeling her best to begin with is a humbling experience.
So I did what every other responsible mother would do in this situation.
I gave my children ice cream. Lots of it. Never mind that it’s 10 o’clock in the morning.
Never. Say. Never. 😉
Thankfully, this little guy Mr. chunk has steered clear of the infections looming in our home.
He has, however, continued growing leaps and bounds, eating well, evident by his milk mustache and 6 month attire and sleeping well (last night was the 5th consecutive night of 6+ hours, followed by 4 more) allowing momma to attend to his sick sisters and keep her head above water.