It was bound to happen, the dreaded fall cold. My son miraculously got over his in a couple of days. But just as we were getting into the "best of times" (i.e. preschool for my son, nice weather, new fall t.v.), my now one-year old daughter has a nasty cold. One of those beauties featuring two steady streams of yellow fluid pouring out of her tiny nose. (For more ramblings in the horrific nature of children's colds, see my post: The Neverending Cold).
I keep thinking things will get easier now that my son is in preschool a few mornings a week and my daughter is past the impossible, exhausting newborn stage, and yet, and yet...
There are still days when I want to go hide in my closet (admit it: you have a hiding spot). Because if my son isn't whining for me to play cars with him, my daughter decides she needs to spill the entire contents of the Cheerios box on the recently vacuumed floor. Or there is another stinky diaper to change. Or someone is hungry. Or both of them (and I) desperately need a nap, but one is refusing.
(Image from Schoolofhardknox.com)
Last night, after getting the kids in bed, I wanted to wave the white flag of surrender. I just simply could not picture being home with both of them all day again. To survive another day solo with my two young kids sounded impossible. But here it is, another day. And I'm here. What choice do I have? Moms don't get sick days. We don't get to occasionally call in and play hooky. We show up because we live here.
Here's hoping things get just a bit easier soon (even if that simply means neither kid has green snot), moving past the worst of times, and focusing on the best of times.
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