Tonight as he stands there, shivering and coughing, I'm distracted. Wondering what triggered it this time, wondering if this means my night is shot for writing, wondering if I can finally beat that idiot Dave's high score on Bejeweled Blitz. I grab the bowl and rinse down the bathtub, then fill it up for my son. "I'm going to wash off your tummy now."
He looks up at me with his teary, pale eyes and says in his trembling voice, "Thank you, Mama. Thank you so much."
And just like that my heart is broken. Why is it that these beautiful moments pierce straight through your heart and fill you with a joy like pain? Motherhood is the most terrible kind of love--it takes everything from you, wrings you dry, wears you out, and then fills you back up to bursting.
Sometimes it takes a little vomit to remind me to hold my life in awe.