It's got to be LOVE!

Just this past Monday, as I looked at my calendar, I realized it was now the second week of April. I was reviewing the events that were coming up and was dreamily reminiscing of the activities that we had done earlier this year. A big "phew" sigh came across my lips as I happily thought that our household had "missed" the stomach bug that had been swirling around since January.

On Monday night, my son and I were sitting down to our dinner, our time passed pleasantly with light conversation but my son ate very little. Of course, I was secretly puffing with frustration as I had assumed that he had been into the "Easter" bin but when asked what he had eaten his reply negated my assumptions. He had been mentioning that his tummy was sore and that he wasn't hungry but I didn't think anything further than he's probably not in "his growing phase". Usually he eats me out of house and home, only to find, at the end of the month, my son half an inch taller than the month before. So, I always reason that if he's not hungry than his body doesn't need as much of it so I don't bother my thoughts with it further.

I should have known something was up because he was clingy after dinner and refused to go upstairs without me when bedtime came. Of course, I was getting an "Easter" massage by one of my favourite RMT's so I must say, I wasn't pleased that he was not being a bit more independent in his actions. I get very little "me" time and this was "me" time that I don't like compromised. So, I asked him to settle on the couch and would tend to him when my massage was done.

Saying good-bye to my RMT, I walked my boy upstairs. I was in my fluffy comfy warm robe with blissful relaxing vibes as a result of my much-needed massage. I snuggled into my boys bed and read to him. However, I knew that my relaxed body would soon be shocked into reality with a boy that began to feel the signs of "something" lurking at a cellular level. His pleas for relief from a tummy ache began to increase. We had had a busy weekend with little sleep and not the greatest of food so I just continued bypassing the thought that it was anything other than a flu bug.

However, at 11:15, my little boy ran into my room and in the midst of trying to tell me that he was going to be sick, out came projectile vomit all over my feet. I quickly rummaged around for the garbage pail because I knew there was more to come. I asked my room-mate to get up and hold the pail while I tried to unglue my feet from the vomit pool on the floor. Now, I adore my room-mate, but having the ability to wake quickly and be ALERT, ready for ACTION - not so good at this! As she groggily got out of bed, stumbled across the room, I gave quick orders because, clearly, her brain wouldn't have worked sharply enough before the next onslaught of volcanic vomit hit again.

So, once all was cleaned, wiped and washed, I thanked my room-mate for her efforts and I put my scared little boy back to his bed. At this point, I was the recipient of an onslaught of "I'm sorry's" and chatter coming from a scared little boy who didn't know what to do with all of his nervous feelings as a result of his illness. For some people, upchucking is a scary experience. I work with adults who have been sick at the office and the very thought of puking scares the hell out of them so I have full empathy and sympathy when it comes to this sort of thing.

I stayed with my boy most of the night, working my fingers gently through his hair, nurturing as only a mother can do. He woke the next morning, very weak and wanting his mommy. Taking him to his father's was not an option, not only because he was too sick to go anywhere and I wasn't about to disturb my son from surroundings that were a comfort to him but he didn't want his dad, he wanted me, his mommy! I snuggled my boy all day and by the end of the day, his appetite started to pique and crackers and gingerale were on the menu of acceptable items that could cross his lips and not upset his tummy.

That evening, as I put my boy to bed, my heart warmed at the sight of him. My mind wandered to the events that had taken place in the previous 24 hours. I smiled to myself...only a mother's love could handle standing in a vomit pool, staying up all night and all day, function on little sleep, cater to every whim of her sick child and still smile with such beaming warmth and not want to miss this event for the world.

It's nice to know that my motherly love is still needed and wanted by this wonderful little boy. Happiness is...