Oh God, please...thank you

It's 12:11 am and I'm sitting here wide awake and with a beer, my one feeble effort to get myself sleepy again. I took myself to bed about an hour ago after I was nodding off at the computer and I was ready to snuggle in with my little man. Rewind to this morning. Kevin is still horribly ill with whatever he's got going on. He started remodeling his office last Monday and had to scrape the ceiling to get rid of the old texture and put some new stuff on. The first day he scraped without a mask on. The second day he wised up and wore it. The third day he's complaining of headaches and stuffy chest, no productive coughing. The fourth day it's starting to get phlegm but he's stuffed up. The fifth day brings no relief with the Claritin and he braves doing some more work to the room. Day 6 and he skips out on the barbecue at a friends because he's still feeling gross. On day seven he runs out of Claritin. Day eight brings us home to today and he's out of Claritin, out of me to coddle him and stuck with a baby with too much energy and too much crying. I took half a day from work so he could rest some more and hopefully just have half a day with a good and happy kid. No such luck. I got a call at 6:18 that JT's been a pistol all day and hasn't slept for more than 30 minutes. I share his pain, Kevin's that is, I really do. I feel bad when JT is owly all day. I feel bad when he calls to say he can't get him to settle down. I sympathize with him and tonight I kept saying I'm sorry, honey, I wish I had an answer for you. Did you try this? Did you try that? So I suggested tossing the kid in the stroller and wheeling him around the house (the only place that has a remote bit of shade). Apparently that wasn't the best suggestion as he reminded me that he was sick and now he's supposed to take the kid outside. Whoa nelly! I told him I just gave a suggestion since that's what he asked for and since he's a grown man, he can chose not to take JT out in the stroller. blah blah blah Anyhoo. I got home and JT was hanging out on Dad's lap as good as could be. The kid turns on the charm when I come in to the room which makes me feel cruddy after Kevin's had a rough day with him. Nine o'clock rolls around and I figure the kid's got to be sleepy at this point. (I'm getting there now) I took him into our room and fed him there. He dozed for all of 4 minutes and then proceeded to show me how well he can roll over and spin on his stomach. Cute. Real cute, kid. Sleep would you? Show me how you do that one. It wasn't until ten fifteen that I got him off to Sleepyland. I backed out the door watching him lay there as cute as can be, little lips still sucking an imaginary breast. It's 11:10 when I decide to go to sleep. Just like every night, I open the door real slow and peek over the bookcase to look at him sleep. Usually he does his little head shake and flops his legs around a little bit as if to say hey, I know you're watching me. Only tonight I peek over the bookcase, the smile slowly erasing from my face as I see him laid out spread eagle on his stomach, head straight down into the mattress. I froze for several seconds just looking, thinking back to the post of a fellow mom who let her kids play with the baby, only to come back 15 minutes later to find the babe face down, blue, head pushed into a ball of covers. I slammed my hip into the bookcase as I pushed my way into the room and stood next to the bed. Instead of just pushing him over, I was too scared, I held my own breath and looked at his back, waiting to see the rise and fall of his breathing. I couldn't see very well in the semi-darkness so I touched his arm and then his leg. Both were cold. And then he shook his head a little. I took a breath finally and just picked him up and he flopped against me. He was fine, just cold from the air conditioner (but warm on his front side) and continued to sleep against my shoulder and neck. I walked out to the living room and said to Kevin, "he just scared the bejeebers out of me. He was face down." I stood there squeezing him and loving on him and walked him back to bed. I went in to brush my teeth and he had flipped himself again to his tummy. I crinkled up my forehead, turned him back over (he moaned in disapproval) and stood there to watch this time. Sure enough, over he went. I shoved the pacifier in his mouth as some sort of safety device. Somehow assuming that he can't suffocate with the pacifier in there - he can't go completely face down with that in. Oh yes he can. He proved me wrong and I proved that I'm stronger than he is and turned him over again. Enough for one night. I told him to not ever do that again. And then I laughed after I said it because I'm a mom now. This is not going to be the last time he scares me. There's going to be the head dive into the coffee table. The tumble down the steps. The gravel in his knees and forearms when he falls off his bike. Let's not forget about trying to be superman...I wonder if he'll break an arm when he tries to fly. I've had a quarter of my beer and I'm tired again. It's been 24 minutes. Enough time to tell my story to get it out of my head. Enough time to let my mind rest again. Enough time to still get some sleep before he wakes up for his middle of the night snack. Good night. And don't forget to hug the little ones in your life. Thank you, God, thank you.