In the past week I’ve been guilty of a bit of navel gazing. Metaphorically speaking anyway. The ground has been pulled from under me on a couple of occasions and I’ve spent too much time brooding on things that I should have just let go of immediately. Easier said than done right?
So when Mr Small began displaying the attitude of a stroppy fourteen year old the past few days, I didn’t pay as much attention as I normally would have. I put it down to the terrible threes. I put various meltdowns down to being overtired. Of course after eight years doing this parenting gig you’d think I would have been a bit more clued in. But it has been a long week.
As a consequence when he came stumbling into our bedroom at about 11pm last night I was a bit startled. One touch to his forehead showed a roaring temperature.
And all I could think was: "How did I miss this? How did I not figure out he was getting sick?"
And all I could think was: "How did I miss this? How did I not figure out he was getting sick?"
The rest of last night is a bit of a blur. There were all the usual efforts at getting his temp down, making him comfortable and to just feel better. We eventually settled him back in his bed with he and I sleeping top and tail. Well he slept.
I didn’t. I know you can figure out why.
Today he is bright as the proverbial button. seriously, how do kids do that? I am mainlining hot cups of tea and thinking of using matchsticks to keep my eyelids open.
All I can think is he’s ok, he’s ok. He’s ok.
I am indeed the luckiest mum in the world Image courtesy of We Heart it.
