I write this from my makeshift bed for the evening, curled up on the sweet 3×5 rug I just purchased for the room my two oldest daughters share. I’ve admired how it has tied the room together, how it fits perfectly between Wren’s full sized bed and Adi’s twin nestled by the window. The soft pinks brought out by the pale green of their bedroom walls.
I had never considered how it’s slight plushness might feel, the only thing between my body and the hardwood floor. Yet, this is where I find myself. Paused. Waiting for a rustle. Ready to leap for one of two puke bowls. Ready for another round of vomit.
Our house has been hit with the stomach bug. We eased into it with just our youngest, Rose, sick all weekend. But then as the end seemed in sight, Monday on the horizon, Wren fell victim and then Adi right behind her.
Now, bedtime and I feel like if I leave the room, I’ll be back within seconds. Both of their own beds have been stripped down, the laundry machines not catching a break-all casualties of the bug. Not wanting to expose myself further, I’ve decided the floor is safest- germs float up, right?
I lay paused, praying for sleep and trying not to see the dust bunnies that have hidden away under their beds. I’m silently cursing my new One Little Word for the year… pause. Is it too late to change to fast forward?!?