Mothering From the Floor

Our family was hit with the dreaded stomach flu this week, and I've spent the morning mothering from the kitchen floor. You'd be amazed at how well you can care for children while laying on the kitchen floor, as long as milk refills and snacks are limited to 1 per hour, and as long as your 4-yr old cooperates by bringing diapers and wipes for the little ones to you. This has been a particularly nasty strain of the virus, striking Casey first last Friday and then slowly making its way through the rest of us. Thanks to a few doses of Zofran and ginger ale, I've kept down some toast and crackers and feel like I'm on the mend, and praying that everyone else is too.
And it has made me realize that no matter how old you are or how many of your own children you have, when you're sick you still want your Mommy. I would have hated for mine to be here and risk catching the bug with us, however I would have given anything last night for her to sit by my bed, push my hair behind my ear, and bring me chicken soup and a Cherry-Limeaide from Sonic (Why? Dunno, just sounds good. I don't even know where a Sonic is in this God-forsaken city). Oh well, I'm headed back to the floor to do some mothering of my own, to push hair behind some little ears and tell them everything will be alright.