“My poor baby, if I could have it for you, I would!”
My Mom would say this in a soothing voice whenever one of her children was sick, be it mind, spirit or body. I say that now to my son whenever appropriate. And I mean it, for all loving and nurturing, yet practical, goal oriented reasons.
My son had an upset stomach last night (no fever or other symptoms). He started feeling sick at 9pm when he was already in bed, at around the same time the Jets were a lost cause and Janet2 was cleaning her kitchen floor (because the Patriots WERE OUT OF CONTENTION — these digressions are getting worse).
POB (partner of blogger) and I dutifully took turns in the night soothing him when he woke up and giving him Children’s Tums. Because I was just recovering from a thrown-out back at around the same time our son got sick, POB did more turns initially. Each time he woke up and I went in (and freaked him out by yowling in pain), I would rub his head and back and say Mom’s magic words that always comforted me. He would eventually drift off for 45 minutes or so. And I would roll out of his bed and crawl to my room so as not to scream in pain and wake him. Of course, that woke POB, so I probably did more harm than good despite all loving intentions.
3am rolls around and he is up and really, really feeling bad. I go in, because I know POB has to get up in 2.5 hours and I can stretch my alarm until 8am if necessary. He is really feeling bad and I say Mom’s magic words and, lo and behold, like a miracle swept in from the sea, he vomits all over me and then runs to the bathroom for the other end of the story, so to speak.
Nothing makes you feel more mom-like than having your child yawn in technicolor all over you. I cleaned up and started to strip the bed and hose everything down. (At this point, POB was up and ready to crank up the washer/dryer.)
Our son has a strong stomach for all that to have stayed in for six hours.
I couldn’t help thinking that if he were able to give it to me at 9pm, my system would have expelled everything in 5, maybe 10, minutes and we all would have been happier and all have gotten a good night’s sleep. Instead, today, our wiped-out son stayed home, I was essentially in traction and POB had to be nursemaid to two babies at once.
Do you think Mom ever had the same thoughts about wanting to be sick instead of us, or am I just a diluted (and deluded) version of her?