The babysitter

Just want mama

"I'm sorry, buddy. I'm trying. I'm really trying. But you just want your mama, don't you?"

Lucy's heart cracked at the defeat in Tim's voice. She'd heard him frustrated before, heard him exhausted after long shifts, but this was different. This was the sound of a man who felt like he was failing at the one job that mattered most to him—being a good father.

She pushed open the nursery door to find Tim standing by the crib, Evan in his arms, both of them looking utterly miserable. Evan's face was red and blotchy from crying, his little fists beating weakly against Tim's chest while he wailed for his mama. Tim's hair was disheveled, his t-shirt damp with sweat and tears, and there were dark circles under his eyes that spoke of a man at the end of his rope.

"Tim," Lucy said softly, and both her husband and son turned toward her voice.

Evan's cries immediately shifted from desperate wails to reaching whimpers, his arms stretching toward Lucy with the single-minded determination of a sick child who knew exactly who could make everything better.

"He won't stop," Tim said, his voice hoarse. "I've tried everything—singing, bouncing, walking, even that weird humming thing you do. He just wants you."

Lucy moved carefully across the room, her ankle protesting each step, and gently took Evan from Tim's arms. The baby immediately pressed his hot face against her neck, his cries quieting to exhausted hiccups.

"It's not you," Lucy said quietly, settling into the rocking chair with Evan. "You're an amazing father, Tim. Sometimes kids just... they just want their moms when they're sick. It doesn't mean anything about how much they love you."

Tim slumped against the wall, running his hands through his hair. "I know that. Logically, I know that. But listening to him scream for you while I held him..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"I heard Emma earlier," Lucy said gently, rocking Evan slowly as his breathing began to even out. "She did the same thing to you. Sometimes that's just how it is."

"You made it look so easy with her," Tim said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She was inconsolable, and then you walked in and she just... melted into you."

Lucy looked at her husband, seeing the exhaustion etched in every line of his face, the way his shoulders sagged with defeat. "Tim, you need to get some sleep."

"I can't leave you to handle both of them alone, especially with your ankle—"

"One of us needs to be functional tomorrow," Lucy interrupted gently. "And right now, it's pretty clear that both kids are going to want me when they're feeling this awful. You have to work tomorrow."

Tim started to protest, but Lucy held up her free hand.

"Look at us realistically," she said. "I've got a sprained ankle, two sick kids who are currently only accepting comfort from me, and we both know this stomach bug is going to mean a day of alternating between vomiting and fever management. You need to be at the station tomorrow because someone has to keep earning a paycheck while I play nurse."

"Lucy, I can't ask you to—"

"You're not asking. I'm telling you." Her voice was firm but not unkind. "Tim, you're exhausted. You've been trying to help for hours, and all you've accomplished is wearing yourself out. Go to bed. Get some real sleep so that when you come home tomorrow, you can actually be helpful instead of a zombie."

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, but Evan chose that moment to let out a small whimper and burrow deeper into Lucy's arms, proving her point perfectly.

"What about Emma?" Tim asked. "She's going to wake up again."

"And I'll handle it," Lucy said simply. "Tim, look at me."

He met her eyes, and she could see the guilt and frustration warring in his expression.

"This isn't a failure," she said softly. "This is just how parenting works sometimes. There are going to be nights when only one of us can provide what they need. Tonight, that's me. But there have been plenty of times when only you could calm them down, remember? When Emma had nightmares about monsters and only Daddy could chase them away? When Evan was teething and only you could get him to stop crying?"

Tim's expression softened slightly as he remembered those moments.

"Right now, they're sick and they want their mama," Lucy continued. "That doesn't diminish everything you do for them every other day. It just means that tonight, the best way you can help our family is to get some rest so you can function tomorrow."

Evan had finally fallen asleep in her arms, his little body heavy and warm against her chest. Lucy carefully stood from the rocking chair, moving slowly to avoid jostling him awake, and placed him gently back in his crib.

"Go to bed, Tim," she whispered, moving to where he stood by the wall. She reached up with her free hand to cup his cheek. "I've got this."

"What if Emma wakes up again?"

"Then I'll handle Emma too." Lucy smiled tiredly. "I'll probably end up sleeping in the living room anyway, so I can hear both of them. You take our bed, get some real sleep, and tomorrow you can take over when you get home from work."

Tim leaned into her touch for a moment, then pressed a kiss to her palm. "I hate this. I hate that they don't want me when they're hurt."

"They do want you," Lucy corrected gently. "They always want you. Right now they just want me more, and that's okay. Tomorrow when they're feeling better, Emma will want you to read her bedtime story and Evan will want you to make him laugh during dinner. This is just one night, Tim."

After a long moment, Tim nodded reluctantly. "You'll wake me if you need help?"

"I'll wake you if I need help," Lucy promised, though they both knew she probably wouldn't.

Tim kissed her forehead, then leaned over the crib to press a gentle kiss to Evan's sleeping head. "Get some rest when you can," he whispered.

"You too."

As Tim headed toward their bedroom, Lucy settled back into the rocking chair, knowing it was going to be a very long night. But at least one of them would be functional tomorrow, and right now, that felt like the best they could hope for.