Late last night there was a timid knock on our bedroom door.
YBW was dead asleep.
I went over to the door and Thing G was standing there.
Me: Are you OK bud?
Thing G: I just threw up.
Me: Are you OK now?
Thing G: I threw up in my bed.
Me: OH!
We stripped his bed, started the laundry and I got him set up in the guest bed. (After I removed the quilt my grandmother made and replaced it with a old blanket just in case of more vomit.)
What y’all don’t know about me is that I absolutely don’t do vomit. That’s why my kids had a dad…to handle the vomiting. It’s the only bodily fluid I just can’t handle.
So what I did last night was a pretty big deal.
But I’m a mom…that’s what we do…mom stuff.
Even though I’m not his mom, I had Thing G’s back when he needed me.
That’s what moms do.
YBW emailed me this morning: Thank you for taking care of him last night.
I replied: You’re welcome. That sounds dumb to say because you shouldn’t have to thank me. I was just being his mom for a little while.
I love that kid.
He needed love last night. He needed someone to take care of him.
I was on it.
Thing G is right as rain this afternoon…I think he ate too much junk yesterday.
We’re snuggled up on the sofa catching up on all the MLP episodes in the DVR right now.
That’s what moms do.
therobynbirdsnest 