The lead ball that pressed on the space behind my eyes would not relent. Her crying was like being stuck by the tiny prickers of a bush-just as you think you’ve escaped the wrath, one more jab gets you right behind the knee.
I wondered if knowing that Krista, my sister-in-law, had come home early with a stomach bug was what sent my own ebbs and flows of nausea throughout the day into over drive, but the pulsing between my temples told me otherwise. There it was again, but instead of the slow cry of before it was now a shrill scream. I decided it was time.
Time to hoist my hundred pound head from the pillow and go rescue my husband from the jail our eighteen month old had created for the two of them to share between the four dark walls of her room. The bedtime routine had clearly collapsed in epic proportions. I dragged my feet across the hallway and opened the door as my brain managed to pound out the reminder, “parents don’t get sick days.”