Eight Months

Last school year I was beginning to fear that this blog's name might be changed to the Puke Monologues in reference to the number of times a stomach bug had hit our home.  This year, thankfully, has been a moment's rest and we have been stomach-bug free for the last eight months.  Last night provided the first dent in our otherwise healthy record.  The arrival of this bug was no surprise (it has been moving through the families of our town at an astonishing rate).  Fortunately it is a fast one and has hit four of children almost simultaneously, thereby speeding up its stay at our house.

However, when these stomach bugs hit I am always left wondering about the connection between the puke fairy and the labour fairy:  why do both seem to hit right when mom and dad are ready to call it a night?  The scenario plays itself out in the exact same way every time:  the kids are sleeping peacefully, dad is watching a movie, mom is reading in bed, and then a desperate cry issues from one of the children's rooms.  Bowls are fetched, towels laid and dad chooses a second movie to accompany him through the 'early' shift.  Dad finally crashes and mom is awakened by the second wave of the bug (plus, this time, a frantically barking dog who causes mom to set booby traps at various windows and doors).  Strangely, this same dog also throws up in the morning.  (Should I report this inter-species  virus to the CDC?)

Those of you who have been party to the miracle of birth have also, lucky you, endured the trials of labour and its rotten timing.  This timing seems to be exactly that of the stomach virus.  Just as mom and  dad toddle off to bed the first labour pang hits, the water breaks, and the night is over.  Alternately, mom and dad snatch far less than the desirable number of sleep hours required to function well as an adult only to be rudely snatched from slumber by a baby who just has to get out.  There must be some connection between these two middle-lower abdominal phenomenons.

As an aside, to all of you whose children either don't puke or choose to do so during the daylight hours, I congratulate you.  If your labours hit only after a full eight hours and produce a baby by nightfall, I also give you a hearty pat on the back.  To all you c-section moms, you are not exempt:  oh no, most of you endure not only the trials of labour but also the particular trials of the blue-plate special, labour followed by the scalpel.  And let's not mention your recoveries.  I bow to you.

I suppose that stomach bugs and labours are trials specific to our younger years.  They toughen us up, remind us of our lack of control over our lives, and, hopefully, shorten our time in purgatory.  The other possibility is that they simply raise the water and the coffee bills.  I choose a life with God (and caffeine).