Tonight I spent awhile rocking Mead. He has had a fever all last night and today. Not sure what is wrong yet (doctors are closed on Good Friday so the only option was the ER and I wasn't sure his sickness warranted that trip which would entail bringing his brothers!), so I have just tried my best to make him comfortable and ease his pain.
Mason has his surgery (tonsilectomy and adenoidectomy) on Monday, we attended the pre-op appointments yesterday which was a collossal mess and hours of my life I will never recover. I am terrified for him and so want the surgery (however minor) to be over and him to be home and recovered.
I was thinking, while rocking Mead, that in my kids short little lives, as I look back, I just remember the good times. I mean, if I make myself, I can remember the long nights, fevers, ear infections, etc. But, mostly, when I look back I remember the funny things they have said or done. The first time they said "Mama", the way Mason loved to put on everyone else's shoes, how Matthew loved to crawl after the vaccum and chase it, Mead's silly dances.... the good stuff, the good times, the stuff that makes you so glad you are a Mommy.
So I am hopeful... hopeful that the memories of this weekend -- the memories of late nights and early mornings, the memories of anxiety and worry, the memories of exhaustion -- fade. I hopeful that what I remember is that they looked to Mommy to comfort and that I was there, that the little bonds of trust are strengthened and that it doesn't look as scary as it does right now.
