I promise I'll explain.
Yesterday evening was turning out to be a pretty bad night. With two toddlers and an infant (who can no longer be trusted to stay in one place when you leave him there), I am often torn between five different tasks at any given moment. It was the kind of night that Elliot was dead tired, miserable but wouldn't take a nap. He would fall asleep in my arms only to scream in the crib. Or he'd be asleep in the crib and then Jackson would come busting in the room. Or Elliot would just hear his two older siblings screaming and crying over some random toy and lose all interest in anything else.
I was getting frustrated. I was already annoyed with our real estate situation and the impossible feat of making dinner.
Set scene: Ayla & Jackson are only happy together while throwing toys down the stairs from their rooms. Including legos!!! OCD nightmare! Elliot is finally happy sitting in his swing, chomping on a biter biscuit. I am boiling water for their pasta and trying to finish my chicken chili.
Elliot starts to cough and then spits up a little bit. Then he looks red in the face and starts to vomit. A LOT. The most I've ever seen from him. Sorry to be gross, but I get spit up on every day. That doesn't phase me. It's the real might-be-stomach-flu vomit that makes me cry. Ayla & Jackson came downstairs to see why I was crying and were fortunate enough to catch a full force projectile from the swing.
Then Ayla starts to gag. A lot.
I yelled for her to leave the room before I had two messes to clean up.
And here is where the prayer comes in:
Everyone forgot their concerns with dinner, fighting over Barbies and throwing legos. Jackson was crying because he didn't understand what was wrong with his baby brother. So while I wiped up the poor guy, Ayla took Jackson into their room and started praying.
She prayed that Elliot would never get sick again. Amen to that. (And it worked - it was just a fluke moment, everyone here is healthy!... for now....)