My babies are sick. I know, it happens. But I still hate it.
I hate watching them be miserable; I hate that there isn’t really much I can do for them other than hold them and wipe their running noses. And I hate how they just “aren’t themselves”. Their usual cheer and energy is replaced by uber-whininess as they follow me around the house. My almost 22 month old son cries if I leave his sight, holds onto my pant leg, and just wants Mommy to hold him.
I’ve finally convinced my three year old daughter that naps are good when you are sick. Of course, she won’t take one unless I lay down with her. She has coughed on me so much this week that it is inevitable that I will be sick soon, too. Yet, I find myself only hoping that they feel better soon. That’s my concern. That and that they sleep through the night again soon (Mommy would love a full night’s sleep…)