Last week, I was in the office for all of 45 minutes (7:00am) when my husband rang me. He never rings unless there is something really pressing so I knew based on the time of his call that it must involve one or both of our children.
Charlotte had thrown up three times since she woke up at 6:15am. I grabbed my handbag, walked out of the office with the mobile phone plastered to my ear while the husband gave me a low down on the situation. I had to go home to my baby.
The moment I walked into the home, our daughter lunged towards me. She needed me and on one else could do. My husband had done a great job in cleaning up, getting Daniel organised and both kids were calm. He is very capable, indeed.
I did what my daughter required. Cuddle. That, we did. Miraculously, she stopped throwing up. In fact, she even asked for more food.
A few days later, it was Daniel's turn. Not vomiting but nasty nappy rash revealed itself at 5:00pm! He was beside himself. Screaming, howling and thrashing about. I don't blame him. Poor baby! My husband did everything he could to calm Daniel down but to no avail so I took over.
After a quick shower for the kids, they were changed into their pyjamas. I cared for Daniel and applied Sudocream very liberally on the infected area. Then I cuddled him like a baby and gave him his bottle of milk (it's been ages since he wanted to be cuddled like an infant). We shared an intimate bonding session which lasted 30 minutes where he whispered stories into my ears and I responded by whispering too. Everything was good in his world, again.
That moment stayed still for us. It was as if only we existed in that moment in time. It was very special.
As much as I hate seeing my children unwell, I do enjoy the special bond I have with them. My hugs seem to be the best cure for (almost) anything. I shall never under estimate the power of cuddles.