It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a….no, it’s just me.

Each day moms around the world are living out their lives exhausted. We cater to the will and whim of our families, while we neglect our own selves. That’s normal. That’s life. I mean, the days I’m wearing concealer and mascara are the days I’m looking H.O.T! The days I’m wearing a dress instead of jeans/shorts and a tank top/t-shirt are the days I’m on fire. Shoot, if I get a shower in at the start of the day I’m a brand new woman! Then, there are days where it’s time for me to lie in bed and as I replay the events I think…

“It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a….no, it’s just me!”

Yup, I’ll admit it. I’m Superwoman. Now had I been in my early 20s I may have tried to pull off that hot Superwoman leotard, but my “after two kids super power outfit” consists of spit up, Mac’n'Cheese, ketchup, and some sort of jean and cotton clothing. Yup, the clothes are my afterthought. I’m just proud that I’m not wearing elastic band pants anymore. My super powers change weekly if not daily (shoot, that in itself is a super power) and they are made to order for my family. I always have the powers to feed, bathe, and take care of my children. I can cook, clean, do laundry, all while talking on the phone, watching a movie, drawing a train/car/truck/plane/etc, and nursing.

On special days (or in this instance, weeks) my super power lets me survive no sleep and have the super power of remembering how much medicine each child takes, how to break a fever, how to clean up puke, how to clean up poopy underwear, and how to cradle my two and a half year old as he has glassy eyes, flushed cheeks, and a temperature of over 103.5F that the Tylenol just won’t break (Thank heaven’s for Motrin and a husband that will run to the store!).

It all started last weekend when my four month old wouldn’t sleep because he didn’t feel well and had a cough. On Wednesday morning I took him to the doctors because the poor kid’s cough sounded like “the bad cough” and I knew he needed treatment. Sure enough he needed a nebulizer treatment and we went home with an inhaler. *Insert Mommy Guilt Here (more on that in another post)* Once I had him settled into bed I noticed my two and a half year old didn’t feel 100% so I gave him a few extra cuddles and took his temperature. It was low grade and that was that. Then he puked. I cleaned it up, cuddled a bit, and put him to bed. I finally get myself to bed at midnight.

At two in the morning I heard “the scream”. The two and a half year old woke up screaming and I ran to him. He was boiling at this point and his fever had sky rocketed to 103.5F. It’s amazing how in the middle of the night, in an emergency, you’re able to wake up enough to coherently give the correct dosing and treatments to your child. We cuddled on the couch and he couldn’t sleep. So we watched Toy Story.

Then Toy Story 2.

Then Polar Express.

Somewhere in there the four month old needed nursing. Around 3am my older son was hungry and ordered his made to order chef (aka Superwoman aka Mommy aka Me) for Mac’n'Cheese and a fruit bowl. He was eating so I figured he must have felt better! WOOHOO! It’s a 24 hour deal.

Finally at 5:45am he went back to sleep on the couch and I couldn’t sleep. I was waiting for the other child to wake up. I finally collapsed in exhaustion on the couch at 6:30. Sure enough at 7:30 the other one woke up hungry I fed him and at 8am the older one woke and was whining. Around 8:30 he was really not feeling good, he wanted to sit in my lap while his brother was doing tummy time about 4 feet away. Suddenly…..BLECH! Projectile vomit that missed the baby by about 4 inches. I ran with him in my puke filled arms to the bathroom and held over the toilet as he screamed and cried because he’s scared. At this point I called for my husband to wake up and said “Ummmm a  little help here!” Apparently he didn’t know I had been up for the last 6.5hrs! I was baffled at how long it took him to assess the situation and I began to bark orders.

“Make sure the baby’s ok!”

“Clean the puke!”

“Move the baby!”

The day continued with four more episodes of puking and I was unable to get his fever to go below 101.5F.

And that’s how the day went.

And the next night.

And the next day.

Over a period of 3 nights I may have had 5 hours of sleep. I have had to entertain my husband’s friend from out of town.  I have had to try to keep my children apart so my baby doesn’t get what my preschooler has. I have had to do heaven knows how many of loads of laundry to clean up puke, poop, or whatever other bodily fluid that may have made it’s way to the fabric. I have had to make a  run to the grocery store, two runs to the pharmacy, and call the doctor to ask what they considered an “uncontrolled fever”. I have somehow made this all work.

I know many mothers have been through this situation. I know I’m not the only one. I know that viruses spread like wild fires, but I don’t think that anyone really understands the toll it takes on us physically and emotionally. None of us like to see our children sick. None of us like to be unable to help our children. All of us are just doing whatever it is we can when duty calls. Somehow we’re able to do it on adrenaline, our mommy instincts kick into full gear, and we hardly miss a beat.

So look…it’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a ….no, it’s just me.

Now where’s my bed?

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