I sit here at the computer acutely aware of my neglect at recording our lives recently. Not that anything earth shattering has occurred. But I don't think that's where the gems are. I do really believe it's in the daily insignificant moments that make up who we are. Sitting here is the last place I want to be. I haven't slept for days. I have gobs of ugly makeup on from a makeover by Anabelle. Every room in my house needs a good amount of love. And Lysol. On Wednesday I found Elise in her bed in a massive amount of throw up. Like dig it out of her ears, scrub it out of her hair, wipe down her whole crib, nastiness. Thursday Anabelle felt nauseous. Friday it got me. And I'm pretty sure it won. I was miserable in every way. But lucky for me I had my trusty four year old Maisey to hold down the fort for me. Her first act of authority was to hand Elise a giant brand new box of Cheerios. When Elise emptied it's contents on the kitchen floor I heard uproarious laughter from the both of them. Awesome, snacks for Elise throughout the day, I thought. Maisey wanted to go outside with Elise. I told her they could go in the back but to put some pants on Elise because it was cold. Maisey took her to their room, closed the door, and I heard them chatting. They emerged holding hands a minute later, headed outside in the frilliest fanciest skirts we own. Not that I would choose the situation, but I have to say that it was somewhat entertaining to watch Maisey take charge throughout the day. Elise came to know that Maisey could and would get her snacks and drinks, help her to get up and down, and play with her. She followed her around and, for the first time, started saying her name (as "May-May"). When Anabelle got home she sort of took over. Lila also took a turn entertaining Elise. By the night I wondered if I needed to go to the hospital- I had severe contractions and really intense back pain, on top of the flu. Saturday morning, after I had spent the night in complete pain and turmoil, literally praying and begging for mercy, Anabelle came to me crying that they were going to miss their soccer games. I told them to get ready and that I would try to take them. We went. Lila played in Lila Land, alongside her team mated who were playing soccer. She frolicked around for an hour doing what seemed to be interpretive dance and then got fruit snacks. A total win in her book. By this time I was already feeling close to passing out but had Anabelle's whole game to get through. She finally got a chance to play goal but she didn't see any action due to her solid defenders. We went home and each of the girls got a job and we went to work trying to reclaim the house a bit. We missed the morning session of conference because of the games but I wanted it to be bearable for the second session. Anabelle did her jobs with a great attitude. I was so grateful. She begged to go to the neighborhood block party which was occurring at the exact same time as the second session. I wouldn't let her go. She argued that she doesn't understand what they're talking about anyway. Throughout the session I found her finishing someone's sentence about a scripture she knows or asking the girls to be quiet so she could hear. She made several ties to things and it was obvious that she was both listening and understanding. After it was over I loaded the girls up to go to the commissary. We were in desperate need of a few things and I wanted to have good food for conference Sunday. By the time I was paying I could barely walk. My stomach hurt so bad from being pregnant and so dehydrated/ weak/ tired. I was seriously struggling to feed the kids and get them in bed. When I finally went to bed, I did so nauseous and in hopes of being able to catch up on sleep and make a recovery. Two hours later I heard Maisey yelling that she had thrown up. I bathed her, cleaned it up and made her a bed next to mine. I spent the night helping her throw up. By the morning Anabelle said she felt sick again. The house was still in disarray. I did my best to take care of the kids, while cleaning, and cooking. We watched both sessions of conference. I made dinner for the Calls, whose baby is in the hospital with bronchitis. It's been a long weekend. I've had absolutly horrendous moments and hours really. And the most draining part is that I've had so very many of these days over the course of this deployment. But there are good parts. There are always good parts. It was great to watch each of the girls step up and do their toddler best to help each other out. I had sent a text to a friend that I was sick and would be unable to work out with her that morning. In about ten minutes she had contacted my visiting teacher, who sent a text to see what I needed. By the end of the weekend I had four friends drop by sprite or bananas or snacks for the girls or call to check on me, insisting that they will come day or night, even at the risk of being infected. And I get the opportunity to do hard things. To care for, and clean up after sick kids when I myself am ragged. To clean the house and cook and shop when I feel just a shred above death. Are they the hardest things I'll ever do? I wish. But this deployment has reminded me that sometimes life is just uncomfortable. It's inconvenient. And on some days, you're simply trying to make it to bedtime, and that feels like an incredible triumph. And even on those days, there are blessings, and there is good to be said of it. (Mostly that it's over!). Tonight I feel grateful for kids who are learning responsibility, for friends who teach me about true compassion, for conference which always gives me the perspective shift I need, for health-which you never fully appreciate until it takes a vacation, and of course to watch Lila play soccer, with all her hippy, free-spirited heart.
With that being said, it's best I go to bed now. By my calculations, she is on deck to start throwing up in the next hour or so.
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