I vaguely remember a time when I might tell a friend that I was “up all night” and it could only mean one of two things. Either: I was up studying, or I was out having fun. Now, it is universally accepted that “up all night” means that I have a sick kid.
I worked an evening shift last Tuesday and when I returned home, hubby said, “Buddy’s acting a little off. He keeps saying he doesn’t feel good and that he wants his mommy.”
Awwww…. poor guy. So up the stairs I go to peak in on him. He is sleeping soundly. I adjust his blanket and kiss him gently on the forehead. He stirs. He sits up and vomits, and the screaming commences. It was as if he saved it just for me.
Without being overly graphic, his bed and clothes, my clothes, and the bathroom rugs were all in need of a thorough washing. Buddy spends the rest of the night in bed with us, alternately sleeping and hurling. Awesome. Miraculously, Goose slept in the same room through the initial puking, screaming, and the lengthy cleanup.
At 3:15am, Goose starts to cry. It was a very sad cry. Apparently she has just noticed that Buddy isn’t in his bed, and she is deeply troubled. I climb into her toddler bed with her (yes, I did) and explain that he has a sick tummy, and that he is in mommy and daddy’s bed.
“Whyyyyy? Why is he sick? Why can’t he go to school? Why can’t he be in his own bed?”
I explain again. She expresses her plans to make him a “feel better soon” card like the one he made her when she was sick. I stumble back to bed where Buddy has made himself as large as possible, such that there is very little room left for me.
24 hours later and Buddy was as good as new…. But Bear was a little cranky…. And then…. Repeat.
And of course, every parent knows, that when you’re up all night with a child, there is no “sleep all day” tomorrow. Instead it’s more like: walk around zombi-fied and muddle through the day courtesy of a steady caffeine supply.