Winter has started. I know that because the boys have started getting sick. Bub kicked it off last weekend with some coughing and throwing up, then passed the baton to Teebs who got a running start on our winter doctor visits. Poor Teebs got hit hard with a cold that knocked him square in the chest, the more he coughed the more his asthma flared up, the more his asthma flared up...the more he coughed. A sad little cycle that stuck us with breathing treatments every four hours for a couple of days.
I could hear the rattles of scary little wheezes in his chest, he'd get lost in coughing fits that would only relent after he was in tears pleading with me, "I give up, mommy, I give up." And he did, underneath the covers on my side of the bed, passed out next to an empty box of animal crackers and a sippy cup of milk.
The breathing treatments didn't take long to turn him around, today he is ornery, but I'm happy Teebs is feisty again.
It's been tiring. A mess of days with little boys and hot foreheads that need me. Not to be outdone Scooter continues to want to nurse every two or three hours every night, just to make sure that I still love him when it's dark. I scoop up Scooter, admiring the sweetness of his toes in the shadows but cursing his stubbornness, and keep my eyes open long enough to rock him back to sleep. I crumple up again under the covers hoping for two solid hours of sleep only to feel the heat of whispers on my eyelids, "mommy I'm thirsty," Teebs croaks inches from my face.
My left eye won't stop twitching. I'm tired. But I've finally hit the stage of motherhood when I recognize sleep doesn't matter anymore and tired is just a boring part of my identity that I'm busy enough to ignore.
Read more from Jessica at bubandteebs.com