Wednesday night I had finally gathered up enough guts to watch Lone Survivor. After putting the kids to bed, David and I snuggled up for a nice little movie night together. When the movie ended at midnight, David was snoring soundly and I was an emotional wreck after the film, so I began writing. I wish I had taken that opportunity to sleep, because…
Shortly after 1am, IT BEGAN.
Trinity came to our bedroom and said her tummy hurt. Within an hour, three children were vomiting. If we weren’t running from one bedroom to another with bowls or towels, we were cleaning carpet. And I must be honest here, I am not good with throw up. I can handle almost every other aspect of parenting, but when I smell vomit, I’ll be the next one on the floor. SO GUESS WHO DID 90% OF THE NIGHT SHIFT?
By six the next morning, we were supposed to be running a four mile race that is our family tradition. David generously encouraged me to take the big kids who still felt fine. When I got home from the race, Daly Kay had turkey in the oven, stuffing and green bean casserole done, and David had the laundry back under control.
One by one, the bug got every single kiddo. By the end of the night, our Thanksgiving feast had been relinquished to a small Dixie cup of cheerios and 3 ounces of Gatorade every half hour. The dinner that had been so carefully planned and even fully prepared sat mostly uneaten on the kitchen counter. No towels left and running dangerously low on cleaning supplies, our Thanksgiving ended less than pinterest worthy.
But you know what? It was still wonderful.
My husband and Daly Kay — handled all the grossness with a smile and kindness.
The Philidelphia Eagles won. (Sorry Dallas fans, the Eagle’s kicker is a hometown boy!)
And there will be plenty of Thanksgivings where our family is not all under the same roof – we will be spread far and wide. So even if we are all sick to our stomachs, at least we are all together.
And what a man I have. What an amazing, loving, patient, kindhearted (good-lookin’) husband. People ask me all the time. “How do you DO it?’ And there’s your answer folks. I don’t do it alone. My husband always gives 110%. And my oldest children step up. And even when it’s the worst Thanksgiving ever, it’s still the best.