Married Up

My husband has many fine qualities, but the one that merits mention tonight is the fact that he is excellent with sick kiddos.

Ev woke up at about 10:30 tonight and came up the stairs to our bedroom, on a mission to find her daddy and get snuggles. He was starting to carry her down the stairs (the pale tan carpeted stairs. Sigh.) when she suddenly barfed (there was pepperoni involved, let us never speak of it again). While I stood there briefly stunned and useless, he was already hustling her to the shower. I did the clean up of the floors and other parts of the splash zone.

For the last year or so, I’ve been dealing with some issues with anxiety. My particular anxieties usually take the form of focusing on illness. Not big scary capital letter illness, but everyday stomach bugs, especially the thought of all of us getting sick at the same time. This started when I was back in Iowa and trying to balance work and being in grad school classes and, on some levels, made sense. I was spinning a lot of plates at the time. A wave of noro virus could knock all those plates to the ground.

Plus, at the time, we only had the one bathroom. So, that alone made the prospect of multiple stomach related illness scary.

I’m generally speaking doing better, anxiety wise. I don’t stay up nights worrying about it anymore but when the inevitable happens and a kid goes down with a stomach bug, I have to actively suppress my panic. Even now, as Ev lays sleeping on a couch covered in towels, I can feel my own stomach feel uneasy (oh the irony of having anxiety about illness that manifests itself in a nervous tummy. Well played, irrational brain and wonky digestive system).  What if I am sick? What if Miles is? What if, what if, what if.

But M. is stays in the moment. He bathes, he calms, he soothes. He doesn’t spiral into panic. His voice becomes more gentle, he moves to the living room to sleep near her. Sometimes he tells me about how sick he was as a kid and how is dad took tender care of him then. He comes by it honestly.

I plan my escape to Canada.

Please send “this was just a random one time puke” vibes to my house, okay?

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