Woe is Everyone

Poor sweet Gabriel. The boy is suffering. In addition to his relentless stomach bug, I just realized yesterday that he's getting four new molers! (Is that how you spell that? It looks funny.) It finally dawned on me that for two days he'd been acting like he does when he's getting teeth. Low and be-freakin'-hold, there they were- both sides, top and bottom. My poor little man. Thank heaven for Baby Orajel. He has also come down with the full-body rash again that he had the first week and a half he was sick, and the diaper rash from hell has also returned. My sweet little baby. Today was pretty good though, compared with yesterday and before that. Am I jinxing him somehow? I really don't know what else to do for the boys. Yesterday Jes came down with lower-end trouble again after a couple days without it. I'm beginning to fear that I may have to accompany them on their honeymoons with boatloads of towels and blankets and a bucket or two. Talk about killing the mood. I hope their wives are understanding women. Or maybe the girls will take over the dirty work- the real test of true love. When my friends and I were in junior high we'd irritate one another by forcing each other to visualize our crushes on the toilet with food-poisoning after dinner at a filthy Mexican joint. Eew, I know. That's how we verified whether it was really love; if you could still be attracted to a boy after picturing that, (you had to imagine the stench, too) then the relationship had a chance. Oftentimes we could not. The attraction died before the test could reach the stench phase. Anywho, back on subject, my boys are still struggling. I'm actually surprised at the seemingly-endless supply of patience I've felt, especially with Gabey acting like Mr. Grouchypants and evoking his trusty Eternal Whine. It's a force to be reckoned with and frankly, I do have my moments when I tire of His Honor's neediness. Between that and Jesse's desperate clingyness I might normally have turned in my keys and left by now. The grace of God has provided me with a bigger heart than that to which I'm accustomed. Just ask Jesse how smooth the ride has been, even with all these bumps that would normally capsize my boat. That's really too many metaphors in one sentence; I apologize. Anyway, the point is that good things can come from good old fashioned maternal guilt. The thought of my guys in pain has managed to penetrate the hard candy shell of my heart and put my selfish desires (like taking time to tidy the kitchen) on the shelf. I've had more cuddling in the past two weeks than ever in my life, and normally I would soak it up like crazy, being the barely-tolerated mother I am to my children. I confess though, I haven't fully appreciated the cuddles because I can't help but lust after five cling-free minutes to wipe down my counters. I know, I know, I should suck up these hugs, but a girl can dream a little bit, can't she? Funny how "time to yourself" changes from an evening without your folks when you're a teenager, to a half hour bath with a book when you're married, to five scream-free minutes to load the dishwasher without the help of an ankle-biter when you're a mom. My, how the fantasy evolves, yet strangely the satisfaction is just as sweet regardless of the particular gratification. So go for it, Girls, indulge away. And when you do find those elusive three minutes to finally dust the ledge up by the ceiling or purge your overflowing makeup bag, live it up! Savor the flavor, Baby! Go ahead and steal thirty seconds to get rid of that toothbrush that appeared on top of your dresser three weeks ago. Pull your husband's duct tape out of the junk drawer that won't close all the way with it in there and throw that tape blindly into in the garage. Go on and reach for the stars! And if no one's looking, eat a cookie while you're at it.