Sick humor

I'm tired.

Whenever I'd say that when I was growing up, my dad would always counter with, "You were born tired; you just never got rested." I don't know where he got that. But I do know one thing for certain. Getting rested anytime while our kids are young is not in the cards for me.

Last night was an all nighter. But not with Clay. He seems to be better even though I'm not sure what it was he actually had. I'll just slap the label "viral" on it and call it a day. He told me a minute ago that he felt "fit as a fiddle".

Last night was all Spencer, all night. He doesn't have what Clay had, although I'm sure this is viral as well. It's the stomach flu. I won't go into the lovely details, but there are a few things to share.

This is just proof that our heavenly Father has a sense of humor. I see that constantly in my life.

Spencer absolutely hates to throw up. Nobody likes it, granted, but this kid is the worst I've ever seen. First, he goes through denial. There can be physical evidence to the contrary, but he'll insist vehemently, "I'm not sick." He'll say it over and over, maybe to convince himself.

Then he starts the shaking. And on such a skinny little fellow, it seems very pronounced, like a little sack of bones being shaken in someone's angry fist. I think it's around this time that realization hits him. He is indeed sick.

He turns into a negotiator. And he gets mad. "I'm not going to throw up. I hate it. It's awful. Why does God make germs? They're stupid."

Then he cries. Loudly.

Last night before bed, all three kids wanted to have a sleepover with each other. No school today, so they got the green light to proceed. They picked Clay's room. And even though he has two twin beds in his room, while he slept in his bed, Spencer and Allison slept in sleeping bags on the floor. I'm sure there's some kind of logic in there somewhere.

As Bruce and I climbed into bed, we heard Spencer at our door. Thinking he just woke up because he needed to potty, Bruce walked him to the kids' bathroom. Then he saw "stuff" on Spencer and we knew what we were up against. He cleaned the kid; I cleaned the floor.

Surprisingly, Clay and Allison slept straight through the whole ordeal, which is amazing, because Spencer is very loud when he argues with his body about being ill.

I told Bruce he should go on to bed to get some rest. Spencer and I were up until after 1 a.m., because he fights it so badly. Both our eyes were rolling into the backs of our heads by the time we crawled into his bed together, with the trusty green trash can within reach.

Back up at 3 a.m. Back to bed by 4 a.m. Repeat at 6 a.m. Still, we've had worse nights in this house.

At 6 this morning, we came downstairs. I gave him ginger ale and stuck him in front of the TV, wrapped in blankets, while I sat nearby trying to doze. Bruce came downstairs a little after 7 a.m. and told me to go to bed, and he'd go into work late. Is it any wonder I love that man?

Here's where the humor comes in. Spencer said some of the funniest stuff last night.

While in the throes of his misery, he pitifully announced, "I'm really glad Oma isn't here right now. I wouldn't want her to get sick."

It's all good for mom to get "the vomits", as my kids call it, but not grandmothers.

Later, he said, "Nobody likes getting sick. Not even Madison and Colin."

His cousins. I assured him that he was correct. I'm sure Madison and Colin do not like to throw up.

This last one made me laugh out loud.

"Mom, I'd rather spend time with you than be throwing up."

Well, thanks. I'd have thought that was a given, but now that you've thought it through, I'm glad I come out on top in that equation. Good to know exactly where I stand.

Just what I needed. A good laugh to keep things in perspective while dealing with a sick little man.

God is good.

All the time.