On Friday I woke up with the culmination of 3 days of coughing and sniffling, a full-on 101.1 degree fever and pounding headache. The kids could tell I wasn't feeling well and managed to get themselves ready for school on time and with relatively little fuss. I was thankful I didn't have the usual cajoling and last minute "I can't find my shoes!" to deal with so I told the boys how happy and proud I was that they took care of themselves.
I dropped them off, came home, took a couple Ibuprofen and headed to bed for some much needed sleep. 45 minutes later the school nurse called because Andrew was wailing and inconsolable, insisting he was missing his Daddy and wanted me to come get him. My heart melted. She put him on the phone and I tried to help him understand that everything was ok and he needed to stay in class and I would see him after school. I went so far as to tell him there would be no "sleep-over" (something that has become a bit of a ritual for Friday nights around here) if he chose to come home.
I got back on with the nurse and it was decided that I'd come pick him up. I arrived at the school 10 minutes later and the nurse said she'd sent him to get his backpack and jacket (it was pouring rain). I waited 10 minutes before asking the nurse to call his classroom and see what was up. Apparently when he got back to class the teacher thought he was there to stay, gave him a little stuffed toy, and told him that Daddy would be fine so Andrew decided to stay at school. I was relieved that I could potentially get a few hours sleep before having to come back to get them.
AH was also concerned enough that he decided to arrange to leave work early and called me to say he'd pick the kids up after school, allowing me the whole day to sleep. When they all got home the boys came straight upstairs to check on me and give me kisses, asking if I was alright. Once they were sure I was ok they went back downstairs and I got back to sleep.
I wasn't hungry for supper so I stayed in bed and AH brought me some oatmeal to be sure I had something in my stomach. Before going to bed the kids all came in for kisses and to say good night and that they hoped I'd feel better tomorrow.
At 5:45 this morning (Saturday) our little Brandon appeared at my bedside telling me that he was here to take care of me. I let him climb in between AH & I, and he proceeded to climb under the blankets and hog the pillow. He then began alternately patting me on the head and kissing my cheek, saying "feel better, Daddy" every few minutes. I knew I wouldn't be getting back to sleep, but I couldn't interrupt all the good care I was getting. About 15 minutes later AH woke up and realized that we had company and proceeded to take Brandon downstairs so I could sleep a little more. When I came downstairs about 8 o'clock I was greeted by three little concerned faces and a chorus of "how are you feeling, Daddy?"
With all of the love and care I get from all of my guys, how could I feel anything except wonderful? I know that taking care of them, especially when they're hurt or sick, as well as AH (who is now napping) has given them an example of what it is to be a caregiver, the genuine concern and empathy that they've begun to show fills my heart beyond measure. Our three little tornadoes are growing into very sweet, caring little boys and we couldn't be more proud!
