I felt like super-mom much of the day yesterday. Today I felt like the complete opposite.
There was an extreme amount of coughing all day from my oldest. He was coughing so hard he vomited. More than once. More than twice. In the moments of calm, little brother would get cranky. It was like tag-team wrestling.
It also needs to be mentioned that the dinner I prepped earlier in the day and put in the crockpot only half-cooked thanks to an outlet malfunction. Good times.
But the house is quiet now. Snoring little boys. Husband studying for a test on Friday. There is a part of me that wonders, why am I writing this stuff down?
I am writing it down because I want to remember how hard it was.
But I also want to remember how good it was. AND how good I was at it. Even on the days I cried. Even on the days when bedtime couldn't come soon enough and Bugaboo spent triple the time as everyone else at each meal. Even on the days when Bubby spent several hours propped up on the couch watching WordWorld and Veggie Tales until the homeopathic cough syrup arrived.
Even on these days my kids were loved. They were fed. They were played with. They were read to. They were sung to.They were prayed for.
I am going to bed exhausted tonight, but I am going to bed content because I know I gave today everything I had.