A Sick Day to Soothe Mom's Spirit

The plaintive call came from the bathroom.

"Mom!  Mommy!  Can you come here?"

No call of "Mommy" coming from a bathroom ever bodes well for either the caller or the callee--in this instance, me.  Every mom who has ever heard that cry, and we all have, knows one of two things is going on: your kid is sick, or they've just found something on themselves that's freaking them out.

Usually, these frightened bleatings emanate from younger children, the ones who need to be carried around and ministered to because they're too young to take care of themselves.  But in my case, we're out of younger children.  We have a nineteen year old at school with a twenty-three and a twenty-four year old living at home.  And despite their ages, they still call me from the bathroom, though usually it's because we're out of their brand of shampoo.

This time was no shampoo run, however, and I knew it as soon as I heard my daughter's voice.

After the second "Mommy," I went running.  Sure enough, there she was, hunched over, white as a sheet and in the process of getting sick.  She was also supposed to be getting ready for work.  Laura started as a teacher's aide several months ago and as anyone who works around kids can attest, she's come down with every sniffle, bug, ache and pain imaginable, all courtesy of the children she works with.

"I can't go in today," she gasped between gags.  "Can you please call in for me?"  I obliged, then returned to the bathroom and launched into mother-mode, holding back her hair, wiping her face and helping her back to bed when she was able.

Then, we had ourselves a sick day.

When kids are small, as long as they're not too ill and whiny, a sick day creates lots of bonding moments.  It forces us to slow down and really spend time with our babies and I, for one, didn't exactly like them, but I didn't hate them either.  We'd play games, watch TV and snuggle, just enjoying being close and having a reason to take a day off from the usual manic pace of life. 

I felt most like a mother during sick days.  The fact that I could comfort a child with some popsicles, toast and my mere presence, reassured me that maybe I could do this mom thing after all.  Those were the times when I was still infallible, even as the kids got older, because I could make things better, if only a little.

But as my kids grew, they knew, as did I, that I couldn't make everything better.  Life is life and mothers, though we'd fix everything if we could, can't.  The kids know it, we know it, and as soon as the kids figure it out, they stop turning to us for everything, because they know we're almost as clueless as they are.

If the truth be told, I think they're a little disappointed in us, too, almost as though all along we were fooling them somehow, leading them to think we were smarter than we are.  By the time they arrive at their twenties, they see us for what we are--fallible people just trying to do the best we can.

Except when they get sick.  Then, just as when they were small, a cry of "Mommy" carries with all of the innocence of a four year old.  And the need, and the dependence on a mom.

So after I got my daughter back into bed, I took care of her.  All day.  I got her ginger ale, made soup, stroked her head, watched TV with her and snuggled.  And she let me. By day's end, she was on the mend.  I knew she'd be back to work the next day and of course I was glad she was feeling better, but I kind of wished it had lasted a little longer.  I enjoyed that sick day.  It really made me feel like a mom.

Original post to Philly Moms Blog.  Mary Fran Bontempo also writes at www.maryfranbontempo.com