Things That Are True - Friday Confession

The Imp has been sick since Monday. Sleepless nights with a croupy toddler make me so very cranky. Last night, The Imp was awake, coughing, at 1:48 am. He stayed awake, clinging to me, needing a drink of water, his favourite stuffed toy, to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed, to sleep in his own bed with Mommy, to sleep anywhere as long as it was on Mommy. I held him, and I rocked him, and I stroked his hair, his back, his tired, coughing, wheezing little body. Because as parents, that's what we do, right?

It's 8:30 pm, and I just put him to bed for the night. Except for the brief times he was strapped into his car seat today, he has been in my arms, on my lap, or clinging to one leg or the other, for eighteen solid hours. Even when HWSNBN came home just before bedtime, The Imp still clung to me, crying, "Mommy, Mommy!" when Daddy tried to read him a bedtime story.

The last time The Imp was feeling clingy, in a hotel room in Victoria

Don't get me wrong. I love The Imp more than anything. I want to be there for him when he's feeling sick, especially when he's feeling sick. I want him to feel safe, and loved, and to know that I'll do anything in my power to help him feel all better.

But a full day of the constant contact, after a full week of the clinging, sleepless nights, and I'm just done. It's too much of a muchness. I've experienced as much touching as I can handle; I've reached sensory overload. My flesh actually crawled when he wanted to cuddle with me at bedtime. I just needed to have my body belong to me for a little while. But I sucked it up, and held his hand, and sang him to sleep.

Because as parents, that's what we do, right?

Cue the Mommy guilt.

Have you ever just had enough with the touching, or am I the only person who's actually that awful?

Things That Are Surprising - Friday Confession: Dishes

A couple of days ago, The Imp was being most helpful in the kitchen when we got home, taking groceries one by one out of the bags and handing them to me to put away. When that was done, we moved on to other tasks. He was very excited to carefully take each dish out of the dishwasher and put it on the counter for Mommy to put away. I was in a blissful state, enjoying this quiet, cooperative time with my little boy, and feeling more than a little mama pride at how happy he was to be so helpful. It's possible I wasn't paying quite as much attention as I should have been to what was happening to each dish between dishwasher and countertop. With ninety percent of the dishes out of the dishwasher and the job almost complete, I noticed that The Imp was carefully, so carefully, licking each dish before he put it on the counter.

Confession?

I put them away anyway. I just couldn't face the job of remembering which dishes would need rewashing. And then rewashing them. And then rewashing everything else too because I wouldn't want to miss one. So I just sang "Lalalalalalalalala" to myself and firmly closed the cupboard doors, and went and read stories to The Imp before dinner.

Don't tell HWSNBN.

Wanna come for dinner?