It’s like a war zone at my house. The stomach flu has hit, and poor Elias is taking a beating. This is the first time Elias has ever made noises like a sea-lion, and I feel so bad for him. What is so silly is that when he gets sick I have to fight the feeling to scream and run away. I know. What kind of mother am I? I am so new to this sickness thing that I keep staring at him like wide-eyed thinking, “Where is your mother? Who is going to clean you up?” Then it dawns on me. I’m in charge. I’m the mom. I get to do it.
I wish I was more soothing, and better at reassuring him that everything is ok, but I won’t lie. I have such a weak stomach that onetime when he was getting sick, I had to step back so it didn’t turn into a full-fledged barf-a-rama.
Now before your imagination runs wild about what a terrible mother I am, I will tell you Elias has not been left alone to fend for himself. God has given me grace to love on him and get him cleaned up…all seventeen times.
Here is my sick little boy!
Me and this little man are trying to stay well. If you don’t mind saying a little prayer for Elias, I would be so thankful.