I'm the Best Mom and Wife. In the WORLD.

I am the greatest wife in the world. Want to know why?

I sent Brandon to the BYU bowl game this week with our daughters and his grandmother. Yes, it was in San Diego. Yes, Christmas is on Tuesday. Yes, it's kind of a cruddy time for him to be gone AGAIN (he was in Florida all last week and in California the week before). But he loves BYU football and it was his birthday gift. He's bonding with our girls. He took his Grandma! I mean, great guy, right? He deserved some happiness. And the fact that BYU won the game (no thanks to the offense) makes the birthday awesomeness complete.

I am also the greatest mom in the world. Want to know why?

The first night Brandon and the girls were gone, I was woken up around 3:30AM to a massive diarrhea explosion diaper mess/whatever by the crying 3 year old. Scene: crying 3 year old, in the tub being hosed off (I promise the water was warm), baby crying in his crib because he got woken up and why wouldn't mommy just pick him up!?, needing to dress the 3 year old, comfort the baby, strip the bed, comfort the baby, start the wash, comfort the baby, convince the 3 year old to sleep in my bed (where else could he go?), and nurse the baby (in my bed). I slept off and on (who can sleep with two kids on either side of them?) for the next 3-4 hours.

This morning I woke up, thinking, "Yay! No diarrhea anymore! And baby has been sleeping for a long time!" But then the reason I woke up is because the 3 year old was crying --he wanted me to "carry him upstairs" because he'd had a sleep over downstairs with his brothers. And then the 8 year old tells me that he "threw up" last night in his bed, but didn't want to "wake me" and that he "threw up twice" and he "felt bad" and I was... sigh. I ended up bawling my eyes out. I was tired, I've been a single parent for most of the month, I was tired of dealing with fluids, and when I went into their room, it was awful, awful. The poor boy felt so bad, and so I did my best to stop the lecturing and the sobbing, I stripped his bed and the laundry is going strong.

So, I'm the best wife because I let my husband go to this thing, and I still haven't told him about my hellacious past few days (which, really, they haven't been quite that bad, because they've been mixed in with happy times, too, like music rehearsals, finally meeting an amazing online friend, visiting my sister, phone conversations with my bestie, Christmas music, finally getting the kitchen clean, and lots of prayer), so he'll find out when he reads this blog. *waving, "Hi, honey!"* And I'm promising myself not to be bitter and resentful that I still have to bake 40 loaves of apple bread (don't worry, they're mini loafs) for peeps in the ward/neighborhood, wrap all the gifts (which, come on, is going to end up being a Christmas Eve activity), practice for the choir performances on Sunday and I can't get to it because I'M feeling cruddy, myself, and I'm cleaning up the boys' cruddiness.

So, I'm the best mom because I keep serving my kids even though I feel gross and tired and frustrated myself. I make these demanding boys meals and clean up their poop and puke and I still love them something fierce. I'm the best because I keep staying optimistic that we'll all be better by Christmas so we can enjoy the holiday together.

And thanks to this blog post, I have put in loads of Awesome Drops into my bowl. I am the best. I am awesome. Wash, rinse, repeat (and not just because of the puke!).