One of the things I do like about having kids turn into teens is that they are able to care for their own persons. By that, I mean, I no longer have to accompany them to the bathroom or dress them or tend to those kinds of needs. I remember a time when I didn't think that would ever happen.
Probably 10 years ago when #1 Son and Daughter were 2 and 3, I was at aerobics class and my Beautiful Dawta was bebopping around like an active 2 year old tends to do and I had to stop and take her to the potty. Another lady in the class, who then had kids the same age as mine are now apparently recognized the weariness of tending to preschoolers on my face and said in this great, Jersey accent, "Believe it or not, there WILL come a time you will not ever have to see them naked again." That seemed like a total unreality at the time, for that was my life then, but, she was right. I don't have to deal with things like that because praise Jesus, I've gotten them to the point where they can do that for themselves.
I was, however, about 30 minutes ago, wakened from a sound sleep to have one of my teens being riddled with this stomach virus that seems to be going around. My sister in law and 1 year old niece have been fighting it the last few days and apparently, even Alison Krauss has been hit with it (nice to know talented, beautiful people like them have those doses of reality as well). It is pretty brutal and well, messy.
I can't remember the last time I had to clean up after one of the older kids throwing up and the aftermath, but, I am here to tell you, it's a whole different ballgame to have to do so after a young person who is as tall as me than it is a preschooler. Let's just say, I have not handled it well. Poor thing was apologizing and I was quick to tell them "No, no...don't apologize" and try to be somewhat merciful to the poor darling. In the middle of all the yuckness of it, though, I see that, yes, my teens do still need me, even though the majority of the time, they try to act like I'm not a necessary entity in their lives....even if it is cleaning up the fallout of a stomach virus, changing sheets and using the washing machine in the middle of the night.
Take a whiff of Sista Smiff and you'll come back for more, that's fo sho!
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