The Best Medicine, Sometimes

Ashley is sick today. She is the last one to get the bug the rest of us had. . .and the second one to exercise license to mope about it (while neither Joel nor I enjoy being sick, we have too many other things to do to let it affect our lives, and neither of us are great purveyors of sympathy in these cases).

Other than the fact that it makes me sad to see my children physically uncomfortable, it is a lovely feeling to have her warm little body snuggled close to me. As soon as I set her on my lap, I can feel her body relax and her breathing slow with contentment. Occasionally she perks her head up and says "Go Horse Go!" as she and Everett are watching the movie Spirit: Stallion of the Cimeron.

Then she'll lay her head back down in the curve of my neck and her bottom lip will curl out in a minor I-don't-feel-so-well pout. She might make a small whining noise and reach for her water cup, but for the most part she is quiet and calm.

Right now, I am her best medicine. Right now, it makes her feel better to just be sitting close to me. Right now, she'll even forgo her special stuffed monkey for my attention.

It makes me glad. Soon she'll be older and want nothing but a heavy dose of Tylenol and permission to go spend the next hours locked away by herself in her room. It is rewarding to have children who still need me for everything, even if I feel a little worn out sometimes.

Even Everett, in the throes of a major "No, I want to do it all by myself!" phase, wants me when he is feeling sick, sad, lonely, or happy. Sometimes if he is a little grumpy I say to him, "Everett, I think you need to snuggle, don't you?"

He always gets a sweet little smile on his face (his dimple making its requisite appearance) and sits on my lap for a while. He wraps his arms around my neck and sighs as he buries his face in my shoulder. His hair smells like boy, and I don't have much room on my lap anymore, but it is a welcome break for both of us. After a few minutes, Everett jumps up and resumes whatever activity he was absorbed in, minus the frustration. It is short-lived but it sustains both of us.

After Everett goes to preschool at 11:30 am, it is Ashley's special time. I invite her to sit on my giant bed with me and read some stories; she always looks delighted and takes great pleasure in picking out the books for the day. Ten minutes turns into thirty as we both enjoy some quiet, restful time with each other before her nap.

And, let's be honest: I don't move very well nowadays, so quiet time is about all I have to offer. Fortunately my kids don't seem to notice. This is a very good thing, because after the baby is born, I'll probably be too tired for a while to do very many active things, but my hope is that I will still carve out enough time to spend individually with my children. With the three of them so close in age, I don't want any of them to feel neglected.

Some days I feel that I give everything I have and it still isn't enough. But there are other times when I feel that the more I give, the more I have to give. Today is one of those days. Tomorrow might not be.

But I am glad for the days like today, because then I don't feel so hopeless on the hard days.