My four year-old is coloring at the table. She is singing variations on the Star War's Darth Vader theme. It's pretty much the best.
My one year-old is sick. He caught the make-you-throw-up stomach bug that my other son and my oldest daughter had on Sunday. I put him down early for a nap and as far as I know he's asleep. Which is good. It's good to have him in the crib, and sleeping. My motto is: I'd rather clean up bed sheets than my new rug. Okay, that's not really my motto, it just kind of is, when my kids have the stomach flu. Also, sleep is helpful when you're sick.
So, three kids down, two to go - and we're just pretending this is the kind of thing that skips the parents. Which is why I am not eating anything this morning. Because my stomach is queasy, but only from empathy, right? Yes. I am nothing, if not an empathetic parent. Okay, that's not really true, oh wait, it is. I am pretty good with empathy. I could work on sympathy, however. Sometimes I'm a little too "come on and buck up." I should work on that.
Anyway, I am going to clean something now. Or maybe just look through a magazine. But what I am really going to do now is go and check on my baby, because sick babies are the saddest thing, and I hope he's just sleeping through it.
