WARNING: This blog entry may contain sentiment or may have been created on machinery that has been used on or around sentiment. Anyone who is allergic to sentiment should leave this page and shower.
As of Saturday afternoon, Smoochie had spent two nights up writhing in pain due to a stomach ache. In fact, Friday night Bonehead spent the night in Smoochie’s bed trying to soothe him- and the first thing Saturday morning they made a b-line for the walk in clinic. Critter and I stayed home to keep any waiting room germs at bay and await the doctor’s verdict.
The verdict came back possible strep throat, and since Smoochie’s cousin has it and he saw her less than a week ago, strep is entirely possible. I did not know this (which is probably why I’m not a doctor) but apparently strep throat can cause stomach aches and the rash (which I did not notice) that Smoochie had both of. The immediate culture was negative, but the doctor seemed pretty sure that it would cultivate into strep by Monday. So we have a prescription for an antibiotic to either sit on until Monday or go ahead and use if things get worse for him.
Off to the store I went with Critter in tow because, well, at this point he’s pretty much a squirmy barnacle- where I go, he goes. I purchased the necessary ingredients to help a sick Smooch feel better and headed home. Among the ingredients in my back seat were Jell-O snack cups, Sprite, Gatorade, crayons, and a coloring book.
In my younger days-ok, ok, in my MUCH younger days, my mom had a tradition for my sister and I whenever we were sick. Not “Cough cough I don’t want to go to school today” sick, but truly booty over teakettle sick. The kind of sick when you want to scream and cry and throw a fit at the injustice of it all, but can’t because you used all your energy pulling the covers up under your chin. Whenever we were that sick, she would go to the store and bring my sister and I Sprite, a coloring book, and crayons. I have to admit there was nothing to make me feel better on a brutal day than to crack open a package of Crayolas and color that first page in the new book.
I realize that without setting out deliberately to do so, I have chosen this particular tradition as one to pass on to my own children. It doesn’t matter if they have their weight in crayons and coloring books, what matters is that it makes them feel special and pampered on a day when they otherwise feel absolutely cruddy. What matters is that they color knowing deep down that no matter what, Mom will be there for them- even on the days when they want to do nothing more than grumble and cry.
As an adult and mother myself now, I know that things weren’t always easy for my mom. I know full well that there are days when the last word you really want to hear is that three letter mom word. I also know there are days when the smile or giggle you get from your children can be the energy you needed to make it through the rest of your day. Through her example, my mom has taught me how to not only meet the physical needs of my children, but how to make them feel special as well. She has taught me that motherhood is more than feeding, clothing and bathing. It’s also about playing, nurturing, emotionally providing, and teaching through example.
Thank you, Mom, for showing me all of these things about motherhood. Thank you for giving me special traditions to pass along to my own children. I hope I can be half the mother you have shown me how to be.
Happy Mother’s Day.
7 minutes ago