The Hurty Chokes.

Well, that does it.  I can no longer cast looks at other parents who bring their hacking, runny-nosed child out to the store…or to playgroup…or in my case, for Friday night pizza.  Armed with hand sanitizer and a gigantic wad of Kleenex, we toughed it out. Call it part of my “I now have 2 kids so just about anything goes” coming of age.

Parents empathize, and those who aren’t parents have these moments etched in their memories under the “I’ll never do that when I have kids” file.  I realize.  Full circle moments.  Parenthood is full…rather, built out of, them.

So, there I am…my daughter hacking so loudly she sounds like she’s gonna gag and barf.  Nose dripping…me harping, “elbow!” (I’m ruthlessly training her to cough into her elbow so as not to spread germs.  Oh, the things I attempt.)  She can’t taste pizza, much less have the time to sneak in a bite between needing a Kleenex, sneezing, and bouts of the ‘hurty chokes.’  But one thing remains a constant no matter how bent out of shape she is.  She wants to run.  Around the table…up to the counter…to ‘tell’ her babysitter-who-works-there (and the best one ever, Steph :)) ‘something…’

And all the while my 9-month-old, who refuses to eat baby food even though she hasn’t popped a single tooth yet, is sneaking bites of her sister’s uneaten pepperoni pizza.  As she runs out of pieces she can reach, her volume begins to rise. Oh, the joys…

The thing is…it really is joyful for me.  I”m ready for the challenge of raising two of the cutest little princesses that have ever lived.  This is my life’s goal coming to fruition.  Motherhood.  All these experiences are, in one way, maddening.  What parent would trade them, though?  This time is so fleeting, and the memory of ‘hurty chokes’ will make me laugh for a long time…when she goes to school and starts to become ‘too cool’ for mom…when she has her first boyfriend…I can get a lot of joyfully embarrassing miles out of that one.  Just a notch on the wall.

I equate it to running…sometimes it hurts more than it should to run slower than I think I’m able.  Trudging through training is just part of the discipline that goes along with distance running.  But then I’ll bust out a race even faster than expected…and I know all the ‘trudging’ was worth it.

On the way home I said to my husband, “How much pizza did I eat,” trying to assess my own hunger.  I had no idea if I had eaten too much pizza…and it would have been nice to extend ‘Miller Time’ a little.  Home at last and in their pj’s…my 9 month old pats me on the shoulder to hug me.  As if to say, ‘Good job, Mommy.  I appreciate you.’  Good stuff.

3 years and 2 baby girls.  Planned parenthood…ha…spend your spring break with me, ladies (hopefully you’ll get to experience a day when I don’t shower until 9pm because I’ve been barfed on throughout the day by one and snotted and coughed on by the other…meanwhile scrubbing the house and doing all the laundry and linens to ‘kill’ the germ so the sickness will leave and my somewhat normal of a sleep pattern returns…)

…you’ll think twice…or…THRICE!!! (that was for you, Conan…because you faithfully read my blog.  tee hee.)

Happy Empathizing…

Megs

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