Where is my mind?
With my feet on the air and my head on the ground I accept the sleep deprivation that come from having a sick child. You think after 13 years that it will go away and you can sleep through the night regardless of illness except for puking but no, small hands with bed head hair stand in underpants outside my door.
I feel less powerless in my powerlessness as they get older as I can reasonably tell them I can’t make anything go away and especially at 230am. Luckily I can convince them to try to live through it as our alternatives are the emergency room or I can kill them and put them out of their misery. They usually choose going back to bed.
After periods of being able to do whatever I want I feel offended and constrained by the promise of fixing it all in the morning. Doctor visits, co-pays, medication I have to remember to give and other activities that will have to be canceled is exhausting to arrange.
And i am already exhausted from being awakened at 230am by small people who need me. So, I feel lucky and pissy and that seems about right.