Every now and then, I get this feeling of "I am actually the parent and in charge of these little ones" and it causes a slight panic in me. I find this feeling occurs when a possible catastrophe breaks out.
An example would be a few months ago when Abby put a bead up her nose. I had a stream of thoughts run through my mind in about a second, with the first being, "I need my mom to fix this." Then I remembered I was the mom and had to fix the problem. After receiving the divinely inspired answer of having her blow her nose, the bead popped out and she was safe.
(This was actually a very helpful experience for the incident of Caleb putting peas up his nose the other day, but I will let Nick share that fun story-what is wrong with our children?)
This feeling of panic happened again the other night. I was on my way to bed around midnight after finishing some laundry and packing for our trip to my parent's house. I heard a cough from Caleb's room, followed by a loud cry. I walked in there and found him covered in vomit.
Oh, it gets better.
He was covered in his dinner all over his face, his pajamas, his pillow, his blanket, his sheet, and (most unfortunately) his lovey. I do not think I can ever eat peas and carrots again (and it is possible he will not, either).
I took one look at him and immediately wished for my mom to take care of it. However, something kicks in when one is a parent. Some magical thing happens that takes away the smell (well, some of the smell-let's be honest-it was pretty bad) and the love for the child overcomes the natural reaction to walk away.
After cleaning him and collecting the vomit covered articles, I began to wonder where his dad went to. I seemed to remember him passing by the room, groaning in agony, and walking away. Fortunately (okay, fortunately for me), Caleb found him in bed, went to snuggle, and immediately threw up again all over his dad.
I was downstairs, starting the washing machine, when I heard my name being called in extreme panic. I thought someone was dying.
After cleaning up the second mess (and finding myself believing in karma), Caleb finally calmed down and went to sleep. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I kept wondering how I got to this part of life. It feels like yesterday that I was the child who was sick and being comforted and cleaned up by my mom. My life is suddenly not my own and my priorities are for things I never dreamed they would be for.
Yet, somehow, I find it all worth it.