I'm Glad That's Over

Kids know how to do "sick": fast and furious.
One minute Christa was up and at 'em. The next minute, she was sicker than the proverbial dog. She even waited until bedtime to get sick--and she waited until Dad was on parenting duty. I was downstairs working on an article when I got the "Honey, you might want to come up here," call. And by the time I vaulted up the stairs, my husband had already cleaned up the mess.
What a guy.
It was not a good night for any of us, but Christa was the most wretched of us, to be sure. She spent most of the night either getting sick in a blue plastic bucket or waiting to get sick.
"No hands, no hands," she moaned when I tried to rub her back. I just wanted to try and make her feel better.
She wanted none of that.
Christa couldn't keep any medicine down, so there was no stopping the course of the flu bug. Rob fashioned a bed for her on the floor of our bedroom with blankets and lots of towels, with the blue bucket nearby. And then he lay down next to Christa, insisting that I take the bed for what was left of the night.
Like I said, what a guy.
Christa spent yesterday in recovery mode: laying on the couch, watching Christmas movies. She wanted me to sit with her and rub her feet or hold her hands. That's what we moms do.
And today she is back to school, all better.
Rob and I could use a nap to recover from Christa being sick, but that's not an option.
Oh, well. I am just thankful that my daughter is back to her normal, healthy, smiling self.
Thank you, God.