It is often said jokingly… when mother is sick? That's not possible!
So, although impossible, today is the day; the flu has caught up with mom too. I'm kind of in the dishcloth stage. Hubby was kind enough to take our daughter to school this morning so I could play with the youngest today. We got through the day reasonably well with cuddling, new Playmobil, sandwiches on the couch, lots of blankets and now and then a movie so that mom could let her eyes fall half closed. But when a mother is ill… that is not without a struggle.
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But by three o'clock it is really unavoidable; I may be sick as a mother, but daughter's school ends in fifteen minutes. And I really have to go with the youngest on the cargo bike to get to the schoolyard in time. I drag myself to the cargo bike, the youngest beeping behind me. Just ten minutes later we are outside the room just in time, the door is already open.
Without first saying goodbye, daughter storms up to me:“Mama, can I meet Lily?”. A sigh escapes me, because I really don't like cycling back and forth again, and then say that Lily can play with us because because mom is not so well she can't play at someone else's house. For an unclear reason, however, Lily cannot or does not want to come with us. I quickly promise that we may be able to meet with Lily later this week, and try to guide my daughter outside.
However, she does not give up her afternoon of play without a fight. I see a shivering lip appear. No please, not the shivering lip. "But mom, I want to meet someone so bad!" she beeps and she starts to cry. Yes, that can still be added. Did I mention that my daughter has not yet completed the “Dealing with disappointments” course? “Then you ask if Lize wants to play with us, dear?”. Lize is one of my daughters BFFs. She is 5, but then she already has it in the pocket. But Lize can't come either, because she still has to pick up her bicycle, which has been left behind with a girl next door. Daughter starts to cry even harder.
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Actually, I think it's been enough, but my dishcloth status also causes my spine to apparently melt like snow in the sun. Instead of firmly putting my daughter in the cargo bike and telling her that it's a shame, but that she can probably meet someone again next time, I see another friend of hers walking out of the corner of my eye. On a whim, I tell her she can ask them to come and play. The crying stops for a moment, but she doesn't dare to ask herself, I have to come along. Also with friend 3 we get the lid on our nose; her sister already has a playdate home, so her mother can't come get her.
The disappointment has now taken on almost hysterical forms. But if mom says A, she must also say B, otherwise my daughter will be at a loss. So no, daughter can't go with someone else, because I won't go up and down with the cargo bike again in this condition. At the same time, I feel like a huge bitch mom and am flooded with guilt. I feel guilty for being sick and putting my own need for a quiet afternoon ahead of her social needs.
The crying lasts about to the front door. She can be the first to get out there, lock the cargo bike, choose a juice herself and go ahead, a biscuit can go with it. I plop down on the couch and feel incredibly guilty. If I had been clear right away, she wouldn't have been so upset now. At the same time, what are we talking about? I look up and am amazed at the peaceful scene that is now taking place between brother and sister and the knight's castle. Daughter seems to have forgotten the whole “I-want-to-meet-but-mom-not-allowed” thing and smiles at me when she notices that I'm looking at her. She comes to me and says "Mommy, just lie down on the couch and I'll put a blanket over you." I smile.
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I see her pondering. "It doesn't matter that I couldn't meet up mom, that's quite convenient, now I can take care of you."
Okay. Now I'm officially melted. Being sick as a mother and having your sweet daughter take care of you produces a huge feeling of guilt. I decide that the day after tomorrow at the latest I will be fit enough to let my daughter meet as many friends as she wants.
Image used via Shutterstock
