This is kind of an introspective post here. No entertaining stories about the kids. Fair warning.
I think I have decided that one of my least favorite experiences in this world is when the kids get sick. I think its got to be that way for most parents. And really, we've had it good. Our kids don't get sick that often and when they do, its usually been a minor thing. We've been really lucky. But when they do get sick, it is difficult.
It isn't the taking care of them part that's difficult though. What I mean by that is that it isn't the sleepless nights, trying to console them every 30-60 minutes when they can't sleep comfortably. It isn't the puking, or the cleaning up the puke, or being in the direct line of fire of the puke, or any of the other nasty stuff that requires a change of clothing, cleaning supplies, and/or a load of laundry. It isn't cancelling plans or rearranging priorities or any of that stuff either.
The hard part is the heart-wrenching helplessness. Having to watch them suffer, being unable to make it any better, and often times not even knowing where it hurts. Occasionally, there's a bit of fear mixed in there as well, depending on the circumstances.
The interesting thing to me is that after the fact, nobody talks so much about the difficult part, even though that's really the big deal. Sometimes the stories are about how disgusting (or funny, in retrospect) the situation was, or how inconvenienced everyone was by the whole thing because it happened when and where it happened. I guess it is because the easy part just makes for better TV? Its all about how much of what substance suddenly appeared, how far it traveled, and where it landed. Whereas the hard part is always a small variation on "Furrowed brow. Frowny face. Lip bite. Tear. Frownier face."
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