"Mommy? I don't feel good."

I'm looking forward to a weekend that won't involve the clean-up of vomit. Two weekends ago, the flu hit Cole. Last weekend was Alex's turn. Remember when you were little and got sick? And the only person in the world you needed was your mother? While I like to think my husband is fairly adept at handling any situtations, and with his own ability to completely gross me out, I'm baffled at his inability to care for a sick child. If something happened to me and he had to take care of a sick child, here's how I think it would go:

His immediate response would be denial. "It's in your head. Take a tums and lay back down."

Then he'd attempt to pass the buck. "Alex, wake up and help clean up your brother's puke. I can't do it, because it'll make me sick."

If that doesn't work, he'd revisit his soapbox on self-reliance. "Cole, it's your puke. You need to learn to clean that up yourself."

But the real dilemna would happen when a little voice would ask, "Daddy? Can you hold me?" Knowing how Doug cares for his children, he would delicately have to explain. "Geez. I'd like to, but I don't want to get sick. You understand, don't you?"

While it's heartbreaking and tiring to care for a sick child, would any of you disagree there's a certain rekindling that occurs, reminding you how much you love the little people in your life? That's what happens to me, anyway. It's one of those times when you can easily find the 'good' in a bad situation.

And on a completely different note, I saw a quote the other day the really resonated with me. Hopefully, you will all find it as motivational as I did:

"Cinderella is proof that shoes really do make a difference."