Bunny to the rescue.

Bunny to the rescue.

We’ve had some cases of the Eeyores over the last few days. Our little man was very, very puny. I mean pukey. Which really translates to puny anyway, doesn’t it?

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His first true stomach bug.

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There was a lot of, “I sleepy. I lay down on the floor.” A lot of Caillou, Beyblade, and Dora. A lot of intermittent napping.

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One of his saving graces was that bunny up there in the first couple of pictures that my very creative friend handed out as party favors at her daughter’s birthday party. It was a make-your-own bunny, and came complete with stuffing, a needle and thread, and hearts and a song button to stuff inside. Like Build-A-Bear, but way way WAY cooler. Both boys love theirs; they’re the go-to bedtime buddies and feel-better comfies.

The other saving grace was his “fiyah pillow.” Another $2 DIY project: just a piece of flannel tied around a small pillow. I love that both boys have sentimental attachments to things made for them, not in mass production.

It was about a 30-hour ordeal, this bug. I have this frustrating thing that happens when I can’t fix something for my children: I get impatient. And then I get mad. I just want to strangle those things that make our children sick. I watch them breathe until my eyes feel like sandpaper from forgetting to blink, I stand by with an emergency bucket and jump at every shift of their fever-filled bodies, and I sleep with them just waiting for those fevers to break at some point during the night. Hank and I both do.

And then I’m reminded of all of those mommas and daddies out there in the world who have amazing and devastating circumstances in their families who don’t get to hold their babies like this. This was just a flu; it runs its course and goes away. We have ways to bring down fevers and stay comfortable and things to keep us warm and clean and safe. Boy. I just get tired and run down and really blow things out of proportion.

I’m really thankful. I don’t want to take anything for granted.

After just a couple of days, we’re back to this again.

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I can snuggle him without getting thrown up on; huge major bonus for me. Over the course of two days I mopped the floors about four times, took five showers, administered three baths, went through five outfits on me and four on him, washed two pillows two times, and three blankets once a piece.

Now I just get to tickle and tease and chase. Oh, and look at their handsome faces.

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Gosh I love him. He has flecks of gold and green in those eyes and freckles too many to count across his nose. I think I’ve memorized where they all go.

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And him, too.

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Still just a tad pale and droopy-eyed, but begging for pizza after a little bike ride which we happily obliged.

Hug your people, people. Be thankful for your health, for the wealth of your love for each other. Get so close that you can count each other’s eyelashes.

At last count, The Goldfish has 150 on his upper right eyelid.

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