24 hours

How much can happen in 24 hours?

A vomiting 4-year-old who can't keep anything down.
A power outage that started in the middle of the boys' bedtime routine.
Tornado sirens through the night.
Uncharged phones.
Sleeping on the floor outside of the boys' rooms [because no power means no monitors] so we could hear when Finley was throwing up or Eli wanted to eat or Sebi needed something.
All the anxiety that comes from the swirling thoughts of "How long is it okay for him to go with zero intake?" and "At what point do we need to get everyone out of bed and take them to the basement?"

So much stress.
So much prayer.

But God is good.

The 4-year-old ate some toast and applesauce today. He finally had enough energy to get off the couch this afternoon and play and laugh and bicker.
The sirens didn't wake anyone up.
The power came back on last night so we didn't have to spend the whole night miserable and uncomfortable in the hallway.
The tornados passed just east of us with no damage to our house.

I'm still decompressing from my drastically heightened state of emotion. I do not handle "unknown health status of my child" well at all and seeing the contents of your baby's stomach repeatedly emptied onto the floor or into a bucket rates pretty high on my personal scale of traumatizing events. So I've basically been useless the last 36 hours or so. But Jason.

Jason has been incredible. He thoroughly cleaned up the very purple, blueberry oatmeal vomit from the carpet and couch. Every single time Finley thought he was about to throw up, Jason was there to hold the bucket and comfort him. He went to work late and came home early to help me with the kids. He kept a close eye on the storm radar throughout the night. He was always positive, always helpful, always trying to get me to laugh or improve my mood. I love this man with all my heart.

This has not been the weekend we envisioned. But I think we've made it through. Thanks be to God.

The saddest sight

Finally, a spark of regular Finley after 36 hours of sad Finley ♥️♥️♥️

the magical donkey

Eli has always been my most finicky baby to nurse (not that you can tell by his physique), and I do not care for it. It is the type of thing that stresses me out big time. He goes through terrible phases of just refusing to cooperate any time it's time to nurse. We are in one of those phases right now (albeit not the worst one, thankfully) and he was just screaming at me every time I tried to feed him. 

Finally, at my wit's end, I sat him up, randomly grabbed his stuffed donkey, and nuzzled it in his face. He almost instantly stopped crying, if only to investigate this new turn of events, and then wrapped his chubby little arms around the donkey. I decided to risk lying him down to nurse again, holding my breath, waiting for him to start screaming at me again, but... he didn't. He latched. He ate. He kept a tight grip on his donkey. And he fell asleep. 

And my soul calmed. 

His little hands squeezing furry ears. His steady breathing in and out. His body relaxed against mine. I let both of us rest in that moment, waiting those few extra minutes before putting him in bed.

Is it a magical donkey? Will I be nursing my almost 21-pound, 7-month-old baby with a donkey squished between us from now on? Probably not. Most likely it was a one-time-only moment of sweetness. But I will take it. It was just what I, and apparently he, needed. 

This mama gig is the most emotionally trying and emotionally fulfilling job in the world. But even on the hard days, I love it more than words can say.