Ah, the joys of.....

....the stomach flu.

Carter has it.

He was fine until we got to Hancock fabric. He kept saying he was tired, but it was his naptime so I didn't think anything of it.

Until I said to the nice girl behind the cutting counter, "I'd like two yards, please."

That's when I heard the wierd gurgling noise and looked down to see a large brown puddle spreading across the table.

And his coat.

And his shirt.

And his shoes.

And the floor.

And he's been puking steadily every hour or so without reprieve ever since, Sprite and Phenargen be damned.

And here's the thing: these are the days when, from the outside looking in, being a mom is so not fun. BUT--if you're the mom who's actually in the trenches, you have a totally different perspective.

I just want my little boy to feel better. I will wash all the sheets in the house, and bathe him as many times as necessary to make sure he is clean and comfortable. I will sacrifice my favorite throw-around quilt if having it around him means he will be comfy and warm. (It's washable, so who cares?) I will clean up puke over and over and over again, and I will do it without complaining. I just want to be there to rub his back while he's retching so that he knows I will do whatever it takes to make him feel better, even if it means I get hit in the process.

Would I do this for any other kid on the planet? Heck no. Okay, maybe. But I would not do it quite so willingly. He's MY kid, and I love him, and I will be there for him when he needs me, no matter what. And I am happy to do it, puke and all.

Gotta run. I hear another wave coming.