When I had The Throw-Up Sickness back in September (the night before the Warrior Dash), I was, as you can imagine, pretty miserable. The vomiting started in the middle of our camping trip at the Oregon coast. Not only did I have to miss out on hiking the sand dunes at Cape Kiwanda and enjoying ice cream at the Tillamook Cheese Factory, but I had to spend the night in the campsite bathroom. UGH. At least there was a bathroom, though, right?
One of the things about being a mom is that you have to take care of yourself. Well, if you're lucky. More often than not you don't even get to take care of yourself because you are busy caring for other, tinier people. Even when you're throwing up. Although it was bad timing last month in the sense that the throw-ups made their appearance during our camping trip, it was brilliant timing in the sense that my mom was there.
After 10 years away from home, away from a place where it was another person's job to take care of me during times of vomit and gastrointestinal distress, I had my mom with me. It was a grim few hours during the night in that camp bathroom by myself (only occasionally disturbed by (and probably disturbing) fellow campers), but when morning came, so did my mom. She tucked me into a bench near the shower stalls and brought me a pillow to rest my head on instead of my trusty Cornell hoodie. She brought me a cup of beverage and a cool washcloth for my forehead. She drew the shower curtain in front of my little bench so I didn't have to explain myself to every camper who came traipsing in the bathroom. As miserable as I was, having someone take care of me really made a difference.
I've had some time to mull this experience over today, as I lay on the couch, not feeling well. (No, I'm not pregnant, thanks.) Once again, my mom happens to be in town. She gave up a day of sight-seeing and adventures to take care of my girls. She took Miriam to school and fed Magdalena some lunch and took them to the playground, all so I can (hopefully) be back on my feet tomorrow and ready for a fantastic outing.
Like I said, sometimes it's nice to have a mom instead of be one.
One of the things about being a mom is that you have to take care of yourself. Well, if you're lucky. More often than not you don't even get to take care of yourself because you are busy caring for other, tinier people. Even when you're throwing up. Although it was bad timing last month in the sense that the throw-ups made their appearance during our camping trip, it was brilliant timing in the sense that my mom was there.
After 10 years away from home, away from a place where it was another person's job to take care of me during times of vomit and gastrointestinal distress, I had my mom with me. It was a grim few hours during the night in that camp bathroom by myself (only occasionally disturbed by (and probably disturbing) fellow campers), but when morning came, so did my mom. She tucked me into a bench near the shower stalls and brought me a pillow to rest my head on instead of my trusty Cornell hoodie. She brought me a cup of beverage and a cool washcloth for my forehead. She drew the shower curtain in front of my little bench so I didn't have to explain myself to every camper who came traipsing in the bathroom. As miserable as I was, having someone take care of me really made a difference.
I've had some time to mull this experience over today, as I lay on the couch, not feeling well. (No, I'm not pregnant, thanks.) Once again, my mom happens to be in town. She gave up a day of sight-seeing and adventures to take care of my girls. She took Miriam to school and fed Magdalena some lunch and took them to the playground, all so I can (hopefully) be back on my feet tomorrow and ready for a fantastic outing.
Like I said, sometimes it's nice to have a mom instead of be one.