You hear it and you are running, half-way there before you are actually awake. "Mommy! MOMMY!"
You enter consciousness with a blurry memory of what is happening right now, as if it is a dream, but it is real. You arrive and shake off the sleep.
"Mommy! I'm gonna throw..."
And then it arrives. The jolt to your senses. You are carrying a child, not exactly sure which one. You are running to a bathroom but can't remember where it is located. You are almost there just as said child spews forth...Evil Oreos.
Why did the builder choose beige carpet? Why did the soccer mom choose Oreos? Why did Nabisco make chocolate cookies black? Because they hate you.
And there it is - the reason that there are two of you.
One to remove the messy pajamas, comfort the sick child, retrieve the necessary "puppy." One to change the bed sheets, clean the carpet stains, start the endless stream of laundry that will ensue.
One to redress the sick child, secure the trashcan that will sit bedside, feel for the impending fever. One to comfort the sibling of the sick child, assure him that "sicko" will not be having fun during his sleepover stay in Mommy & Daddy's bed, one to hold your hand when you crawl back in bed with sicko knowing that it is going to be a long night.