I haven’t posted for the past few days because we had a virus run its course in our house. For those of you that are mothers, this story will probably be one of your own experiences. It definitely dispels some of the romanticized pictures of motherhood.
It began Thursday around 5 pm. I had just started fixing supper: spaghetti (which will prove to be a bit of a lamentable choice within 5 hours). As I was chopping the peppers, my stomach felt a little queesie (sp?) but as all mothers do, I proceeded to focus my attention on the task at hand. By the time dinner was served at 6, I excused myself and lay down on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
"Ah, maybe a little rest and calm in front of the flames will help. Just wake me up in an hour," was my request. Sleep came quickly and easily. My truly wonderful husband must have known something was "up" and managed to wrestle the boys to sleep without my stirring. By 8:30 the house was quiet. He tapped me just before 9, said he was heading out to his men’s bible study (it goes from 9-11 pm), and suggested I head to bed for a better rest. I followed his advice, but as I moved from downstairs to upstairs past the kitchen, I figured it might be prudent to pick up a big bowl.
The bed felt so soft and so snuggly. I again quickly dozed off, but was up in about 45 minutes, glad that I had brought the big bowl upstairs with me. After gagging for what felt like 10 minutes, though it was probably no more than 2, I felt better and went back to dreamland.
Not 30 minutes later I was awoken by the cry, "Mummy. Help!" It was my 5 year-old, emptying his supper on our carpet, as he was making his way to my room. (Good thing I had made that spaghetti!) Well, I helped him out of his desperate situation, and started to clean up the mess, when I started to feel sick again. At this point I was wishing hubby hadn’t gone to Bible study, but also thinking I was glad he wasn’t at a hockey game or I’d probably have to struggle with feelings of bitterness.
Then my 2 year-old woke up. As the older boy and mommy are both sitting in the bathroom, wretching, his eyes were getting bigger and bigger. I don't think he can remember vomiting, at least, not since he was a baby. So this was a really educational moment. He was a little overwhelmed by the situation, plus tired, and so he began to cry. Wail actually.
And then came one of those stellar moments, when in the midst of it all, I knew this is what motherhood is all about: giving of myself, even in my hour of weakness.
Turns out we were all feeling much better the next day. Vinegar and club soda went a long way to get rid of the stains on the carpet. But I treasure the reminder I received amidst the "momentary affliction". Motherhood is truly a glamorous life. Not Hollywood glamorous. But glamorous in service. It is a way to relate to Christ in self-sacrifice that I am so grateful for. In fact, I sometimes wish I hadn’t waited until I was 30 to enter this blessed profession of motherhood. It may truly seem like a "sick" way of thinking, but I’m glad we had the flu. Glad because it reminded me that when I am weak, Christ is my strength. Glad because I was able to give of myself when it wasn’t easy. Glad because I have the best job in the world and just needed a "sick day" to be reminded of that!