I am sitting on the love seat, typing by lamplight, for the other end of the living room is dark and holds a sick, sleeping little girl. She's been throwing up since this morning and has finally relaxed enough to sleep a bit. I should have had a clue when I found her on the couch this morning, fully dressed, laying down with her blanket, just wanting to sleep. Why I didn't go get "the bowl" at that point, I don't know--guess that's what I get for trying to think positively.
I don't think there is much of anything that makes my heart hurt more than when one of my children is sick or hurting. And when that sickness also results in plans changing--plans that include the Harlem Globetrotters and much anticipated excitement--it makes me want to cry. I just want a "mommy magic wand" to wave over them and make it all better.
I guess God knew what He was doing when he gave mommies such sensitive hearts. After all, it's these hearts that instinctively know something is wrong without a word spoken, just by the looks on their faces. It's these hearts that make us want to don a cape and save the world, just for the sake of our sweet babies. And it's these hearts that will do it all over again tomorrow because we love them so stinkin' much.
But sometimes it hurts.