The Mama Can't Go Down

We experienced one of those weekends around here that I anticipate with dread as soon as school is back in session. I know it will happen; it's always just a matter of when. More than half the people in the house were really sick. I will not go into the gruesome details, but the germy culprit was the terrible stomach flu that attacks our house every.single.year.

Every year, without fail, it rips through here like a tornado, leaving kids and adults moaning and groaning, ruining plans and shifting the washing machine into overdrive. One by one, the members of my house fell victim to this strong virus.

Lucky for us, this time around, I wasn't hit by the virus at the same time as everyone else. As Mark was lying in bed, he whispered, "I'm so glad you're not sick, because the mama can't go down!"

I was busy being caretaker, hopping from room to room, dropping off saltines and ginger ale. Changing sheets, cleaning buckets, wiping foreheads. Rubbing backs, telling my little sweets that everything would be alright, when in all reality, I had no idea when it would be over. We moms don't really know when the fevers will break or how long the suffering will last. We just keep wishing that it will be over soon, that we can take it all away from our children. Watching my kids writhe in pain and misery really forced me to focus on their health.

For a few moments, I retreated to the family room couch to take a break. I flipped on the TV in an attempt to drown out the worry I had been feeling for my babies. While I laid there, with the snow falling outside my window, I counted my blessings for the 362 days of full health that my family does experience during the remainder of the year. Yes, we suffer (and I mean suffer) through the stomach flu every winter, but overall, my children are in wonderful shape. I am ever-so-thankful for their health.

One by one, just as quickly as that mean virus had knocked them down, they have been picking themselves back up again. The children have been bouncing back to wrestling, yelling and laughing. Of course, I'm still on edge, wondering if or when the last two will fall. That means one more kid and me. If you don't hear from me on Thursday, you'll know that the mama did, in fact, go down.



The Professional Stomach Flu Survival Kit
 

 

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