But I'm not twelve anymore.
Now that I'm the mother, it doesn't matter that I'm sick. I still have to get up with the baby every few hours. I still have to comfort my 3 year old when he can't sleep because I've thrown out all his pacifiers. I still have to let him crawl into bed with me, though I know he'll kick me all night long. And in the morning, I still have to feed everyone when the sight of food makes me ill. I have to stay on the couch, where I can keep an eye on everyone lest they get into the kind of trouble that only unsupervised children manage to dream up. And when the laundry piles up, or we run out of clean glasses, or the garbage is overflowing, I'm the one who has to remedy the situation.
It's times like these that make me feel a deep sense of kinship with all the women who have come before me. I think about generations of women caring and nurturing for children, and I feel happy to be in the company women like my own mother. I also think all the ways that motherhood teaches me to be patient or selfless, or disciplined. I'm so stubborn, I can't imagine that anything else would be quite so effective. I tell myself to take advantage of these moments to learn as much as I can. Someday, maybe my daughter will be the one wishing she was still little so that I could take care of her when she's sick..... which makes me sound all noble or something.
In reality, my patience lasted until about 11 a.m. Then, the children wouldn't nap, videos ceased to entertain, and WW3 was once again raging in the playroom. When I couldn't take the whining and hitting and destruction any longer, I went to the the gym and let someone else deal with them for one blessed hour.
Which is where I thought of another positive aspect of motherhood and illness.
Weight loss. :)