Down for the Count

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I know most of us would do absolutely anything for our children.  But yes... even I... have my limits.  Crying in the middle of night and need consoling... I am there - count me in.  Fall down and hurt yourself and you bleed and need to be cleaned up, sewn up and tears dried... no problem - I'm all over that. 

The line is drawn when they vomit in the middle of the night all over themselves and hold their little arms out searching for a consoling hug.  Well it was about 3:00 a.m. Tuesday morning when we heard the cries of Peyton.  We stir and rise up with the sleep still in our eyes to find that he had in fact thrown up all over his bed and crib.  Rich lifts him out and he comes running to me.  I look down at his sad little confused face to see that he didn't manage to miss himself.  How do you explain to the little man that you love him very much but can't bring yourself in giving him that much wanted hug until after he is cleaned up.  So I quickly go to work on having him put his arms above his head and pull the sleeves up to free his arms.  One free and one more to go.  I am desperately trying to free his other arm and tugging and pulling aren't getting the job done.  Remember tears in his eyes and sleep is still in mine.  His bottom lip is now quivering.  I better hurry.  I look down only to find that the reason why his jammies seem a little snug and his second arm not coming out is the mere simple fact that he has footy pajamas on.  I swiftly unzipped the front and got him changed into clean clothes, bed was changed and rug cleaned (all before 3:15 a.m.).

No fever but just feeling yucky.  I stayed home to nurse the little one back to health.  The picture featured gives you an idea of how he sleeps.  He pulls the blankets over his head and rubs the satin between his fingers.