My daughter’s first virus
Our first virus arrived, bags in hand, ready to camp out at my house for few days in my daughter’s GI tract. Explosions resulted.
From both ends.
Nothing tugs at your heart strings more than a sick baby. Especially a sick baby covered in poop, at 3am. And a hose is required.
Well except maybe a sick puppy. With only three legs. And a face full of porcupine quills. And the plague.
(I am full of dramatic fragments today… my writing is coming out in the spastic grasping tone of 6 year old playing author.)
Seriously though, having my daughter sick for the first time brought a ton of memories of my own childhood flooding back. I remember being sick when I was a kid (happened often when I was little), and how my mom cared for me. The baths, the reading in bed, the comfort she tried to give me. I remember being so sick, so miserable, and my mom trying everything in her power to make me feel better.
It is an odd realization when you discover your Mom today is not necessarily the Mom you had “back then”. She’s changed.
But I remember being sick. And I remember how a mom comforts a sick child.
Hope my daughter appreciates it someday.
My dogs are still alive, if that is any measure of my rad skillz, yo.
