It happened again.

I vacuumed. Lots.

I vacuumed until there were no more tiny Benson hairs left on the floor. Then I realized the vacuum was filthy so I cleaned it.

And then I cleaned the kitchen counter tops. Did the dishes. Scrubbed the stove. Washed all of the bed linens. Dusted every corner of Hannah's room. Cleaned the closets. Did all the laundry. Hand-washed and disinfected all of Hannah's toys. Rewashed a bunch of Hannah's clothes. Swept the hard wood floors. Mopped. Scrubbed so many things in the sink my hands are chapped. Lysoled. Windexed. Lathered, rinsed, repeated.

Hannah is sick. I'm not sure if it's again or still. She's on her third round of antibiotics and I hate it. We took her to the doctor yesterday and she was diagnosed with a double ear infection with a cold on the side. Yesterday she was absolutely miserable, which made me absolutely miserable. I felt completely out of control. I can't fix her. So, I turned my need to control into something I could act upon: I cleaned.

Normally, I hate the heck out of cleaning. But when it comes to my baby's health I mean business. I feel like I'm in a battle against whatever is ailing her. It's me against the dust mites. Dander beware. I can't control her health but I can control her environment that impacts her health. And I can go nuts in the process.

I put the freak in control freak. I just can't stand that my baby is sick.

My sad little sicklet.