Sick is just what the doctor ordered

His fever in almost a moot point.

It was bigger then him, this time.
Flattened him for three days.
He didn't eat for two.

I worried. I pampered. I called the doctor. I worried some more. I googled all those scary mommy sites. Menigitis? Can you move your neck? Will you please just touch your chin to your neck. It is important. I dabbed cool cloth on hot skin. I administered the medicine, and charted the times. I kissed his burning forehead, and squeezed his toes to make the head ache go away. I woke him at intervals with the water and the straw; "just a sip, sweetie, just a sip." Then I held him asleep in my arms. I remembered to smile, and to tell him how strong his body was, and that his body would take care of itself soon. It was only a flu.

But, it was also a gift.

A chance to return for a few days to that place
where I was pure Mom. Where he was pure mama's boy.

We both needed that.

There was no increasing awareness of his birthstory.
There was no anger or rage.
There was no conflict.
There was no doubt about who was what when.
There was just a mother helping her son recover, well.

I am an excellent mom when you are sick.
He is an excellent patient.

I was packing some things in a bag when
I felt his arm around my leg.

A gesture that took me by surprise
in it's innocence-
or by it's absence.

Can I have another cracker?

I am so happy he's better,
and so thankful that we shared this sick.