On Being a Sick Mom

I got sick last night.  So sick.  So un-fun.

And then this morning I had to wake up, still sick.  I had to get Captain Kindergarten in the bath, get him dressed, make his lunch and get him on the bus.  I felt rumbles all through me as I trudged through my duties.  Then baby girl needed help out of her crib and into a clean diaper.  Oh, but I didn't feel good in my belly.  I didn't want to lift or even be upright for that matter, but I got her all set and settled. 

Then I turned on a movie and lay on the living room floor.  I let baby girl crawl around and on me, pulling my hair and pinching my face.  The Little Linebacker and Sidekick Sister mostly watched the show, but they had their requests.  The biggest one was, "Mom, open your eyes."

Then the Little Linebacker and Sidekick Sister were ready for breakfast.  Their food made me queasy.  I could hardly look at Sidekick Sister's cottage cheese as I scooped it into her bowl.  I fed baby girl her oatmeal and sweet potatoes, spoonful by nauseating spoonful, until her sweet, soft little mouth didn't form a welcoming "o" when I held the spoon toward her.  For me it was an act of pure willpower to keep going.

My mind told me that there was laundry to do, groceries to buy, toys to clean, floors to vacuum, kids to get dressed, my hair to brush, but I couldn't move.  I could only thinly protect my children from each other and any lurking dangers in my room like dead leaves from dying roses that baby girl wanted to eat.  Mostly I lay on my bed wondering why it was only 9:30 and not nap time yet.

Then 10:30 came.  There were some gurgles, some movement that felt like a clearing away, like my sickness was doing it's final inspection before moving out.  And I was better...enough better...enough better to go and sit on the trampoline while my kids jumped.  Enough better to happily make jelly sandwiches to be eaten on the picnic table on the porch.

I survived.

I know this is weird.  But mornings like these, although I hope I never have one again, are kind of nice.  They make me feel like maybe I am a good Mom after all.  Because I guess I think a good Mom is just a lady who loves the ones in her care a little more than she loves herself.