Last night she complained of her throat hurting, and we believed her. I gave her some Ibuprofen, which I don't normally do, but it was bedtime and I thought it would help with the pain. It did, and eventually she fell asleep. Fast asleep. But not me. I wasn't able to conk out. I've been on a reading tear lately and finding myself up til like 2 reading books I just have to finish. Even if I am loathing the end. In good and bad ways, of course.
So I finally started dozing and she starts crying in her sleep. First it's soft, calm, but restless. I go check on her, she's moving and moaning. I rub her back. She wakes up and has that "who are you and where am I and what's happening here?" look about her. The one where they stumble around in the dark, you know? And they don't realize you're there but are calling for you for hours while you battle to hold them in your arms and make everything better? Well, it was like that, but not entirely. Thank goodness. I got her to the bathroom, she went potty and I wound up carrying her from me sitting on the floor into her room. She's not light - my kid. But I am strong. I am a mom. I'm invincible, right?
We grabbed breakfast-ish food out this late AM, grilled cheese and OJ for her and for me. She also had pickles. Not a good idea, I guess. We did a quick errand or two, and ultimately ended up at Target. Good thing, because as we were pulling into the spot she decided she 'had yuckies,' and that - my good friends - was the end of that.
Motherhood. It's me. It's who I am. Who are you this week(end)?