SickMy kiddo was sick last weekend.

I hate it when she’s sick, but I also kind of secretly love it because she’s all sweet and sleepy and cuddly.  As much as my heart aches for her little feverish head, I love it snuggled up against my chest for no other reason than because I comfort her.

Well… Mickey Mouse comforts her, too.  But I’m better.

The only time it really stinks when she is sick is when I don’t notice it.  And this weekend, this busy, one-event-after-another, fun, fun, fun weekend, I didn’t notice.

Epic mom fail.

I dragged her out of bed, shuffled her off to a walk for cancer which I had been looking forward to for a month.  She sat ever so sweetly and still for the better part of an hour while kids around her were melting down, and I thought, “wow, my kid is a superstar and I love her!”

Turns out she was sick.

So I bought her ice cream for being so good.  And I made her macaroni and cheese.  And I tried to get her to take a nap before her next event.  But she just stayed up there talking and singing herself into delirion and never napped until we got in the car to head to the first birthday party of the day.

Turns out she was sick.

The birthday party was at a children’s gym with climbing walls and balance beams and rings and snacks and cookie cake.  My girl should have been ALL over this!  But she stayed in a corner and played by herself on the climbing wall.  Occasionally chasing after a ball or two.  She didn’t want to participate.  And when it came time to eat, all she wanted was blueberries.  And dip.

Turns out she was sick.

Then the #$%^ hit the fan.  She pinched her finger in a door and had a complete meltdown.  She cried.  And wailed.  And bawled.  And didn’t want to go.  And didn’t want to stay.  And didn’t want me to touch her finger.  And didn’t want to put her shoes on.  And didn’t want me to let go of her.  It was awful… and it lasted well into the car ride to the next birthday party we were supposed to attend.  And when I asked her if she wanted to go to Baby J’s birthday party she wailed, “Nooo!!! I wanna go home!!”

And it was only then that I thought, “hmmm… something must not be right.”

Turns out she was sick.  And by this point in our busy day, she was really sick.  I could see it in her eyes and feel it in her fingertips.  And the way she breathed.  And clung to me.  And whimpered, “I wanna go home.”

I felt awful.  So I took her home.  Gave her some Tylenol.  Let her watch all the Mickey Mouse she wanted.  Woke up in the night to hold her feverish body and give her more Tylenol and more drinks and more cuddles.  I even let her sleep half the night in bed with me, kicking and wiggling and stealing the covers.

Because surely I needed to atone for 10 hours of not realizing that my baby girl was sick.



Have you ever failed your kids?


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