While your daddy and sister play downstairs and watch tv, I'm diligently staying upstairs in the office, near you, listening for -but hoping I don't hear- crying coming from your bedroom. You fell asleep in daddy's arms after I carefully and gently washed everything off your bare tummy and out of your hair; after the smell dissipated, and I let my own tummy settle for a few minutes, I went back into your bedroom to clean up the mess that getting sick had left behind. I'm thankful that after the first time you got sick, I decided to leave you naked, just in case it happened again. As I was carrying you to your room (you were cuddling with me on the couch after first getting sick) you began to cough and gag again. I half turned back the way we came to place you over the toilet, but when you stopped coughing and gagging, I thought it was over. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Everything you ate for supper revisited in the meanest possible way. I'm so sorry lady.
I hope you can forgive me for being so incredibly annoyed by the whining and crying that stuck around you all afternoon. I couldn't figure out what was going on. Both you and your sister have been off your game for the last couple of days, and I felt at the time, as though I was reaching my limit. In reality, you were letting me know, as best as you could, that you weren't feeling good. How do I teach you to tell me that your tummy hurts? I suppose I'm just going to have to start asking questions, and maybe by some sheer stroke of luck, I'll come across the answer. The realistic side of myself is telling me otherwise, though. You are notorious for throwing a fit without even really giving any kind of explanation as to why. Usually I have to use my super sleuth skills to figure out what it is you want. More often than not, I'm wrong. As you can imagine.
Even your big sister knows that now there isn't something right with her little sister. While daddy was watching you both in the bath, and I was cleaning up your bedroom, he told me as I passed the bathroom doorway, that Maren patted you on the back and tickled your arm; it was her way of letting you know that she's sorry, and she's trying to make you feel better. She has a good heart, that sister of yours. And, so do you. That's something that you've both inherited from your daddy and I. For that, I am proud of you both. You will be good, kind people.
I am concerned, though. We all began getting sick at the end of October, and we are now half way through December. That's a month and a half of all four of us getting sick one after the other. I tried booking an appointment for myself this morning because I haven't been feeling well the last three weeks, and couldn't get in. I will try again in the morning, and see if I can't get all three of us in for a visit. Something isn't quite right.
And, baby, I am scared. I hope that its nothing serious. And, I hope (as my wild imagination has made me fear) that it might not be something related to our new house. We haven't had it inspected, and that worries me...
My fears aside, sleep tight, little one, and when kiki is finished soaking up the heat from his temporary vacation in the dryer, I'll put him in bed next to you, so that when- or if- you do wake up, he's there to greet you when your sweet blue eyes do open. And, when you do wake up and sleep isn't something that you want to do right then, I will be there to sit with you and cuddle you until sleep claims you again.
I love you, Miss Addison. Sweet dreams, little one.