Listening to my child cough this morning, I feel like a terrible mother. Playing the shoulda, coulda, woulda game over not having called the doctor Friday afternoon. He's miserable and I can't help. Sure I made him soup yesterday, but I think he's beyond soup's ability to be effective.
The worst thing as a parent, at least that I've experienced is not being able to do anything about when my child is under the weather. Of course, the incessant "I'm dying" and "I'm so bored" tend to make you forget how badly you feel about not being able to instantly make them feel better. Ah, but then he quiets down and I look at his adorable face and I feel bad he's sick all over again. It's a vicious cycle, I know.
When the boys were little, I'd gladly risk contracting what they had to cuddle if it made them feel better in the end. These days I lovingly ask them to keep their germs to themselves. They want no part of cuddling — thankfully, all they want is my undying sympathy and undivided attention as they moan and groan about how awful they feel. That and to allow them to go spread their sickness to others by hanging out with friends because they are going stir crazy staying home. I love how they are actively 'dying' at one moment and then begging me to go over to a friend's house the next.
I wouldn't trade a minute of being a mother — even these deathly, sick moments. :)
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