If it makes any sense, I feel like a much better mother when my kids are sick. Maybe it’s the unforeseen nurse in me, sympathetic to their pitiful tiny faces. Or it could be because they’re subdued, unwilling to scale kitchen countertops or empty all the clothes from their drawers. My patience level, usually hovering near nonexistent, is given the chance to replenish.
Which is maybe why I sat with my cold-ridden daughter at lunch and let her slowly feed me noodle after noodle from our shared bowl of leftover chicken pasta alfredo. And I didn’t complain once.
Each painstakingly acquired slippery noodle after another.
“Abby do it”, my daughter demanded, grabbing the fork immediately upon sitting from my hand before placing the bowl in her lap.
“Can I help?”, I asked hopefully.
“No, Abby do it”, she reiterated, a common phrase these days.
And so we sat side by side on the couch and I let the petite hands of my daughter maneuver each and every solitary noodle onto a fork with the utmost concentration. It took three times as long to finish our serving, but when it was over with, she was so very proud of herself. Sniffly and coughing, but also happy. Turns out, it was one of the best lunches I’ve had in awhile.
If that’s all it takes to feel better, I think it’s the least I can do.
I always slow down when theb girls are sick. I look more, listen more. I’m there.
It’s funny how when my daughter gets sick, I feel more present. I pay attention and try to attend to her needs, hoping everything I do contributes to her feeling better.
Sick days are nice (as long as they don’t include vomiting!) because they allow everyone to slow down and just be together. My friend recently warned me that we had been exposed to pink eye, and my first thought was how much I would relish some time at home, banned from all activities. That’s pretty sad, really.
I love this description of letting your daughter serve you in the best way she knows how.
Hate the kids being sick, but love how it allows me to sit and snuggle and focus only on them.