The first time was definitely hot chocolate. The second cause for laundering has slipped into an array of memories I thought I was repressing but have now apparently decided to delve into with this blog regarding #TummyBug2016.
My son threw up on my slipper boots last weekend not once, but twice. Tragic. I was so unprepared for this predicament as we've always had issues with itchy eczema-ridden tiny humans in our home, but this was the first time we were all sick with something no steroid cream or shea butter/coconut oil/beeswax/manuka honey natural lotion blend/gluten free/dairy free/flavor free diet could suppress.
We went down like a set of dominoes, beginning with the youngest of us and ending with the tallest. It was like a free ab workout for me and some sort of bouncy house contraption for my unborn daughter.
Speaking of this unborn kid, she is now the size of a cantaloupe hanging on the front of me!
So I basically have a giant cantaloupe, plus whatever the fruit equivalent of a 2 year old might be, hanging off of me the majority of the day. I love that my son is so snuggly, but I genuinely fear for us all in how he will adjust to sharing my lap with a smaller human.
My Plan A is to invent some sort of velcro suit that I wear around so he can hang from my side at all times.
I will put cantaloupe, once she is birthed, on the other side so as to balance things out and have my hands totally free to accomplish all of the virtual ideas Pinterest makes me want to do in a day.
Plan B involves inventing a giant Mama pillow, one that somehow remains warm to the touch and comes with at least one mechanical arm that can move across my son's back in a soothing rhythmic motion. And retrieve his water cup. How terrifying this Mama Robot might actually be in reality to a 2 year old still doesn't compare to the level of frustration I anticipate him having over this sibling transition.
Plan C is me convincing my two 13 year old delightful nieces to quit school (like there's anything more to learn at this point) and come snuggle Ben all day. Colleges call this "life credits." I call this my ticket to maintaining some small remnant of sanity.
I think one of the biggest clues about the season of life I am currently in is that I went from thinking this was the coolest thing to drive around in...
I want to throw a soccer ball in the back just because it seems so fitting.
Along with all of these important milestones, like having a third child, procuring our first minivan, and sharing stomach bugs as a family, perhaps the most important event to come about in our nearly eight years of marriage is that a Jimmy Johns is opening 11 minutes away!!!!!!
Can you envision with me how many Jimmy Johns sandwiches can fit in the back of our beautiful, spacious sixteen year old minivan?!
I don't know what their delivery hours are, but if my third human is anything like her older siblings, there will not be a great deal of sleep filling my life in the months (and years) to come. Because I like to acquire the most bizarre conversation pieces for my home as well as support the Himalayan economy, I purchased one of these beauties for Emma's room.
Emma calls it her "volcano." It's supposed to help with allergies and sleep, two things I am always seeking to remedy in our home. Also, the "Wellness Mama" told me I should have this in my possession, and I pretty much just do whatever she tells me, hence the elderberry syrup, spirulina, cod liver oil, and fermenting cabbage located in various parts of my home currently.
Emma slept solidly for 5 days straight after the volcano came to live with us. Miraculous.
Then it's been back to normal ever since... :(
All this to say, if I can be eating a Beach Club #12 sandwich from Jimmy Johns at 3am while nursing a new tiny human and rubbing the backs of two other restless children, I think I will fare much better in this next season of life.
While some people like to sneak away to some quiet location like a library or Starbucks to journal their deepest, most philosophical thoughts, I prefer the calming ambiance of the movie "Frozen," a handheld device playing "Yo Gabba Gabba" songs over and over, and a 4 year old continually saying something about "needing dinner" as I pursue my creative outlets. Like a day at the spa.
Time to reheat something or other.