Worshipping the Porcelain

My sweet girl was sick on her birthday. Around 10:30 Tuesday night, she appeared in the kitchen.

"Mama, I can't sleep. My stomach hurts too bad. I feel like I'm going to throw up."

Sure enough, she did, several times throughout the night. Around 11:30, she was sitting at the kitchen table, a bucket held to her mouth, and she began to cry.

"It's my birthday and it's going to be terrible. I'm sick on my birthday. I won't be able to go to Olive Garden for dinner. I won't be able to play Volleyball. And I'll miss my spelling test." She absolutely wailed.

"I'm not sure missing your spelling test is anything to cry about!" I pointed out.

She sniffed a little and then a smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. She got the point. It was bad, but lots of kids would be WILLING to be sick to stay home on their birthdays. Then she began to reminisce about some of MY birthdays with a houseful of sickies and began to laugh.

"Okay, Mom, I guess it's not as bad as some of your birthdays have been," she admitted.

I stayed up with her until about 12:30 a.m., but finally collapsed in my bed, taking her with me. Around 2 a.m., she yelled for me to move. I handed her a bucket and quickly pulled the covers back, turned, and sat up. She ran for the bathroom.

I remember sometime later, I have no idea how much later, but it seemed like a long time, calling out to her.

"Deanna, are you okay, honey? Seems like you've been in there a long time."

She responded, then I heard her moving around.

"I'm going to my bed, Mommy," she called to me. The bathroom lights went out and I heard her footsteps disappear down the hall.

Around 6:30, I awoke, feeling nauseated. I drug myself out of bed around 7:15 to get the boys moving and cautioned them not to wake Deanna. I finished up lunches, made breakfast, went over spelling words, scriptures, signed Field Trip Permission Slips, and kept the boys on task. Then I quickly changed into a shirt over my pj bottoms and dropped them at school before heading back to bed.

Around 10, I called Don at work and left this message on his answering machine.

"Honey, I just wanted you to know that Deanna's home sick. She was throwing up all night. And now I've got it. I feel terrible and won't be going out today. I just wanted to hear your voice. It always cheers me up."

Then I dozed again until the phone woke me at 10:30. When I had gotten up earlier to check on Deanna and station her in the Den with episodes of Dr. Who (like her brother before her), I had taken it back to bed with me. I glanced at the Caller I.D. "Don at work". YAY!

"Hi, hon!" I tried to sound perky, although there was very little perky in me.

"Well, I've got it, too," I heard a dreary voice say. "I'm trying to leave work now to come home."

And that's how we spent Deanna's birthday - her in the Den, laying down and watching Dr. Who, me in the bed dozing on and off but, mostly, on, and Don in the recliner in the living room alternating between chills and hot flashes.

The day put me significantly behind on all the things that had to be done by today, so I was up until 1:30 this morning finishing cheeseballs and paperwork. But I think I'm caught up - for now.

Deanna went back to school yesterday. She played in her final volleyball game of the season yesterday afternoon. Her friends all were sad that she had been sick on her birthday and seemed happy she had rebounded in one day. Her friend is still coming to spend the night tonight.

During one of my "check on Deanna" sessions Wednesday, she told me that she had fallen asleep in the bathroom after that 2 a.m. call.

"I hugged the toilet, put my head down on the seat, and fell fast asleep, Mama." Now that's sad. But, thank goodness, I had just cleaned the toilet.

Hang onto the little things!