Mummmmm…I can hear being called from the other room. I roll over its 1130pm I get up and shuffle my way into the boys room like an old woman. B1 is the only one left the other two left and arrived half an hour ago into my bed before B1 started calling my name. I sigh yes bubba. My feet are itchy he says. Okay I say and go get the cream the doctor had prescribed the previous afternoon. I rub it in and give him a shot of my old friend Phenergan . Can I sleep in your bed he asks? I sigh there is little room already I think to myself I want to say no but say yes because I know I will be up again in a little while and it will be easier than creating a permanent path in the floor boards.
We move to my bed. He sleeps but scratches at his feet all awhile talking to me in his sleep about a cat. He wakes again at 1230 am after the itch spreads to his hands. The cream and Phenergan is not working. I take him for a shower. My feet and hands are burning he tells me. I give him some more Phenergan and more cream. He looks at me crying. He cuddles me I hold him and tell him I’m sorry I can fix it quicker. He wakes again at 230 am and I call the hospital what else can I do for him? 10 more mls of Phenergan they say its all we could do so that’s what you should try. I do and he falls asleep scratching but he sleeps. I wake again at 4am.
I wish I could say I did all this with care and compassion but this was my third night of broken sleep and I was and I am getting tired. The last two nights was vomiting and sore throats and so last night or this morning I was starting to think that the doctor had got it wrong. That this is something other than his body having an allergic reaction to the virus he just had and so in me being scared last night I didn’t always say to him try not to scratch in my nicest mummy voice. In between the highs and lows of tiredness and fear I snapped stop scratching for Christ sake. I got cranky. I got scared. Then I got pissed off that I couldn’t fix it and that I was getting pissed off to begin with. WTF.
All while this happens he is holding my hand wanting me to fix him. He needs to be next to me; like my presence eases it the uncomfortableness. I should be whispering to him. Making sure he is okay. Yet he is keeping me awake again with his tossing, turning and damn scratching at something I can’t see or fix. And I’m so tired I just want to sleep but I cant. I’m aware that it’s only me he wants, only ever me and I start to question what is the go with that.
Then he stops for a minute. Stops moving for just a minute. Stops scratching. Stops talking and is still long enough for me to remember; its me his mum, his only mum that he wants right now and I should feel lucky about that. I am lucky. Damn it. I start to stroke his hair and whisper in his ear that I am sorry I snapped at him. That I am tired, scared and I’m angry I can’t fix it this thing that is attacking his body. He crawls closer to me so he is now lying with his head on my chest he murmurs like he hears my apology deep in the drug induced sleep and accepts it with a cuddle.
I am uncomfortable. He at seven years old is almost bigger than me and there will be no sleeping for me now as he becomes heavier as he slips into a deeper sleep but the fact is its at that still moment I remember I become acutely aware that he won’t need me soon. Soon that this taking care of him business will be someone else’s job and that he; they will only be mine for a short time longer.
I think of the face book friend who wrote she was desperate for her little boy to sleep in his own bed and at the time I wanted to write to her enjoy him crawling into bed with you and ignore those people giving you advice as I ignore the cousin who tells me my boys sleeping with me is wrong. Over thinking I think of the disappointment of the little girl last week in Big W as her mother says no to her reading the story because she is in a hurry. At the time I was one of those mothers who judged. Who thought to myself come on read her the story it will take five minutes however I get it we can’t live in the moment all the time it’s impossible. Its not feasible. Not humanly possible. Not every single moment in life has to be savoured and enjoyed or that everything has a lesson to be learnt from and anyone that tells you any different isn’t living in the real world or if they are currently prescribed Lovan, have a nanny and an entourage that Jo Lo would be jealous of. Sometimes its just about riding it out seeing it for what it is and letting it be.
Still my face book friend I want to say to you as tired as you are as tired as I am, enjoy it sometimes almost all the time. Between the tiredness, the cranky, enjoy at least some of the moments when they crawl in to bed or with you on the couch when they bring you a book with you because they won’t be yours for ever. Right now only you can fix their sore belly, itchy feet, settle a bad dream and scare away the monsters. One day it will be someone else job and as tired as I am right now that day can take as long as it likes to get here.
