Later that night, when I went to put Bug to bed, I walk into her room and it just felt different. Sometimes a change like that you just feel in your bones, and I only noticed it because I am her mom. I stop to check out the room and I realize her windows are open. Two of them.
Let me elaborate as to why that's a big deal, for starters. We live in housing. Housing, in their infinite wisdom, thought it would be smart to layout a window plan where in the lower level of the house, the windows start 3 feet from the floor. Upstairs however, where most normal people lay their children to sleep in bedrooms, the windows are about 2 feet from the floor. Bugs room was especially well thought out. All the other rooms upstairs have one window each. Her? Four. Genius, right?
So at first I think 'Ok... so they opened the windows.' Then I realized that 'they' were my kids. That 'they' had to have done it when they were playing in there while I was in the shower earlier in the day. That's when I realized that 'they' had also pushed out one of the screens.
I felt like I was punched in the gut. My heart began to race, a cold sweat spread across my goosebumped skin, my head was spinning.
I fixed the screen and locked the windows again. As I lock them, I realize that Bubba as the only one who could have unlocked them, and to do that he had to very deliberately stand up on the ledge since the top lock is pretty high up. Any number of things could have happened and they were all running through my mind at the same time.
There was an image in my mind I could not get out. Pulling into the drive way from the dentist appointment I complained about and seeing my precious Bug laying in the drive way. The thought makes me sick.
After having a stern 'talk' (more like a panicked plea that surely scared the hell out of them both) I closed their doors and went to my room and collapsed. Her window had to be like that all during her nap. I cant get out of my head how many things could have happened.
But nothing happened.
They were both fine. No tumbles out of the window. No injury. Nothing.
Never in my life have I been so thankful for 'nothing'.
I hit my knees at the side of my bed just sobbing. Totally unable to comprehend all the 'what ifs'. I began to pray, professing the massive amounts of thanks that were in order.
That sounds like enough to top off a day. Please. Not in this house.
Around midnight, Bug begins to cry in her room. Boats goes in to see what is the matter, and then calls for my help. He comes back to our room and into the bathroom because his hand went into a large amount of puke. Lovely. I go into her room, slightly annoyed with him. He has left her sitting there in the middle of all that puke, in the dark, to go wash off his fingers. I get her undressed and into the tub while he loads up the washing machine.
When the puking did not subside, I took her to the ER. They gave her a zofran and sent us on our way. 'Food poisoning' they said.
Last I checked... 'food poisoning' is not contagious.
I was sick the next morning, and all day on Tuesday. Bubba was a big helper and Bug was feeling like herself again. If you notice the time of this post, you might be thinking something changed. You might be right.
Bubba woke up tonight, puking. I thought it had skipped him. Wrong. Poor guy. He woke up calling for Daddy, who didn't want to get up. I went to get him and after telling my husband that his son was now sick with what Bug had, do you think he got up to help? Nope. While I realize his work hours have him spread thin, his children need him and his lack of understanding that is really getting under my skin. He is overlooking important things (like open windows when laying Bug down for a nap) which says to me that his job is actually beginning to endanger our kids, and that's not something I am ok with. Bubba has been crying as we sit on the couch with a bowl for him to puke in for his Daddy, but I know I cant wake him. Why? Because he will just be mad and complain about how tired he is, and then fall asleep letting Bubba fend for himself while he is sick.
I know that if he was not working these long hours under a lot of stress, none of this would be the case. I know the difference between 'on push daddy' and 'off push daddy'. I'm not a fan of 'on push daddy' at the moment. While I am trying to be understanding, I have a hard time allowing my kids to actually suffer because he has an incompetent hip-hop (first time on push RDC, in case you were wondering) and feels like he has to be the hero for them.
But what about them?
So while I sit up at almost 2 am, with hands smelling of puke and a weak and scared four year old finally dozing off after a two hour puking spree, he gets to sleep soundly. Maybe there are times when he gets up early to go to work and he resents me for being able to sleep in. Its not about who does more. Its not a pissing contest. I would suffer silently if I were the only one doing so.
Its not me I'm worried about.
So that silver lining is evading me right except for this: there might be a stomach bug wreaking havoc in my house right now, but overall, my children are healthy. Thanks to someone looking out for my babies, they were not hurt by the window incident. My husband might be working long hours leaving him emotionally unavailable (and physically) to me and the kids, at least he is working.
But even in knowing we are blessed beyond measure doesn't stop me for wanting the hurt in my babies to stop when all they want is Daddy. How do I explain to them that Daddies job is taking priority over them? Or how do I explain to him the damage he is doing without it seeming like a guilt trip. Long hours are better than being deployed, but he is now here just enough to make the kids confused as to why when Daddy is home, he would rather be sleeping, or he is only home for 20 minutes to grab food and is then gone again. Maybe this is enough complaining for one night. I have a sick boy to get into bed since his puking has stopped for now.
Mrs. J
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