It’s … Supermom

I have no idea how Katya does it. I’m fast asleep … about 12:30 in the ayem, when suddenly the bedclothes go whipping back.

“Finn’s throwing up,” she says, about the time her feet hit the floor. I struggle toward the boys’ bedroom in time to help with the end of the clean up.

Eventually order is restored, Finn’s clothes and bedding changed, a pot placed next to his head, “just in case.” I ask Katya how she could tell which boy it was from across the hall.

“I’ve heard him throw up before,” she says. For the record, I don’t think I have, but I didn’t hear it tonight, either. Without Katya’s minuteman impersonation, I would have been blissfully ignorant of the whole thing. I press her for a better explanation. Doesn’t retching sound the same regardless of the child?

“I’m a mom,” she says, and so to bed.

For the record, it’s a little stomach bug that is going around the family. I’m sure we’ll all be fine, but put a big biohazard warning on our house for the weekend and don’t look for us out and about, sharing the bugs.


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